


Don't You Know How Hot You Are?

by writerseventeen



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Flirting, Jealous Wade, M/M, Peter doesn't know he's hot, Peter gets hit on alot, possessive wade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerseventeen/pseuds/writerseventeen
Summary: Peter is one hot piece of ass but he's so blushy and modest about himself, he never notices when people are actually making a pass at him. Wade on the other hand: does.





	1. Wade and Matt

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so i was originally just going to write a short oneshot about Peter getting hit on and Wade getting jealous, but i couldn't resist adding backstory because i'm a sucker for this kind of backstory between Peter and Wade. So tell me if you like it or not. Anyways please enjoy and I love feedback!!!

Peter is one hot piece of ass but the kid’s so blushy and modest about himself; he never notices when people are actually making a pass at him.

 

Wade, on the other hand, is not so oblivious. Sometimes he wishes he was, because honestly the amount of people hitting on Peter lately has been getting ridiculous. Before Peter and he became an exclusive item, they were mainly friends with benefits, friends with some _serious_ benefits. But because of their lack of exclusivity, Wade had never been around Peter enough to notice his boyfriend was like- the poster boy- of superheroes.

 

During their platonic relationship, things were good. They had known each other for quite some time, close to three years. And what had begun as stilted, icy confrontations slowly, and I mean slowly, transformed into mutually beneficial combat aid, which then developed into a hesitantly realized ambience of mutual respect, which then somehow became sporadic late night rooftop chats, and then inexplicably became the careful chipping away of pre-erected personal barriers.

 

That was a big sudden step.

 

Okay, so they didn’t click immediately. Can you blame them? They didn’t necessarily have much in common except they both wore red and donned masks.

 

Wade was a well- known killer and Peter was a well- established hero. Deadpool had no use of the law and Spiderman was created to abide by it. Peter’s Spiderman was reserved and textbook, while Wade’s Deadpool was unpredictable and senselessly uncensored. The other Avengers would warn him about him too, saying how unstable and violent he was- basically telling Peter to ‘stay away’ in so many words.

 

But as years passed, their interactions became more frequent, out of sheer chance more than anything, as both of them primarily operated in New York. Their first interaction wasn’t the best. Steve had ordered him convince Wade to stop taking hits on international heroes, lest he be kicked out of NY. Peter didn’t know what to expect, but he did expect some degree of proper communication. But Wade had replied with two strategic shots to Peter’s feet and a middle finger, before slipping away.  

 

Nevertheless their relationship began to grow closer, familiarity becoming a comfort. They’d always catch glimpses of one another atop roofs or in alleyways during the night. Both of them worked alone, every night, unlike most of the other Avengers. Occasionally, Wade would spot him crouching atop some rooftop and shout things like, _“Hey Spidey cakes!”_ or _“Hey web head!”_

 

Peter would ignore him of course but unfortunately, sometimes Wade was the only company around. It slowly, and inexplicably, progressed to the point where they revealed their secret identities to one another, well, Peter did.

 

Wade didn’t have one which may have been a reason why Peter trusted him enough to take off his mask in the first place.

 

They were on their most visited rooftop, the Oscorp building that sprawled its billion- dollar looming- design high across the sky of New York City and lay eyelevel, only a few blocks away, from the Stark Industries behemoth, the neon blue _STARK_ burnt brightly into Peter’s eyes but he still liked to look at it anyways.

 

Wade had managed to sneak up on him, again, which never failed to unnerve Peter. The mercenary flung his long legs over the metallic, square air duct Peter was sitting on and flopped down close to the young hero.

 

They had just finished taking down a crime mob that had been terrorizing the Bronx, and after any good team up, Wade and him routinely met up on the Oscorp rooftop to hash things out and unwind. Wade had become good, reliable company almost a sort-of friend.

 

“Where you been?”

 

“Aw, been waitin’ up on me Spidey?” teased Wade, nudging Peter’s foot with his own.

 

Peter scoffed, “No.”

 

They were quiet for a minute. Then as usual, Wade broke the silence.

 

“You feelin’ okay Spidey?”

 

“Yeah, I feel fine.”

 

“Thought I saw you get smacked pretty hard on the head, you sure you don’t have a concussion? Concussions are at an all- time high for active young people nowadays.”

 

Peter rolled his head to the side, giving Wade an un-amused look.

 

“I don’t get concussions and I’m not that young,” replied Peter, a bit indignantly.

 

“Sure thing baby cakes.”

 

“Wade seriously.”

 

“Okay well then how old are you?” questioned the mercenary, white eyes narrowing challengingly.

 

Peter exhaled tiredly.

 

“Can’t tell you Wade,” reminded the hero.

 

“Oh right, no personal information, you’ve got one of those pesky ‘secret identity’ things.”

 

“It’s not “pesky,”’ retorted Peter, “It’s important.”

 

“Yeah you don’t need to hero-exposition the whole meaning to me Spidey. I’ll just keep thinking you’re a fourteen year old, very into English and art high school student who lives with his two loving parents who work all the time, but make sure to love and dote on you when they get home after fourteen hour shifts.”

 

A brief snort of laughter escaped Peter, shaking his head amusedly at Wade’s random digression. Wade looked over at him, the corners of his lips turning upwards beneath his mask. The night was quiet for a moment.

 

“It’s science and math, not English and art,” revealed the younger man, a fond smile forming on his lips, remembering his awkward high school years.

 

Wade’s eyebrows shot up, the fabric of his mask clinging to the shifting of his skin. The merc’s mask was mysteriously, very expressive, after years of practice, Peter could easily read his every emotion. Clearly, Wade was surprised that Peter had told him something about himself, and for good reason, Peter up until this point was typically a very private person.

 

“Of course you’re a science and math person Spidey, of freakin’ course you are.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” pressed Peter, already preparing to roll his eyes.

 

“It means you’re a nerd,” supplied Wade smartly.

 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ha-ha how predictable. Anyways, I _was_ a science and math person. I’m not in school anymore… so not learning much nowadays.”

 

“Soo you’re at least sixteen. That’s the legal drop out age,” thought Wade aloud.

 

“Wade. How long have we known each other?”

 

The mercenary smiled dreamily, always dramatic, “Dunno, lose track of the time with you baby boy.”

 

“Three years Wade. It’s been three years.”

 

“Damn, why haven’t we gotten married?”

 

Peter laughed, “Shuddup.”

 

“For you, never,”

 

Peter ignored him. “I did manage to graduate, just so you know, and I’ve been Spiderman for longer than three years Wade so you can guess from there.”

 

“Ugh, guessing is so much work.”

 

“You’re so much work.”

 

“Why don’t you just take off your mask and then I’ll believe you’re older than thirteen.”

 

“Wade,” chastised Peter.

 

“Spidey,” mimicked the older man.

 

“Why can’t you just trust me?”

 

“But I do trust you! I trust you Spidey more than I trust anyone else, trust me. Or how else would you know my secret identity?”

 

“You don’t have a secret identity Wade. You introduce yourself as Wade Wilson to whoever you meet.”

 

“Well it _is_ proper manners,” interjected the Merc.

 

“Well I _am_ trying to keep someone safe… and retain some sort of privacy,” Peter lamented quietly.

 

The older man snorted. “Oh you got so much to learn Spidey,” spoke Wade, patting the top of Peter’s head.

 

The younger man slumped, having been routinely been told the same advice by every other super human. He wondered if it was his voice that made him seem so young, but he wasn’t completely sure. “M’kay.”

 

“I do trust you though Spidey, I think you’re the first person I’ve trusted in a long ass time.”

 

Peter raised one hand to piggyback atop Wade’s, still rapping lightly against his head. “Yeah I know.”

 

The tapping on Peter’s head continued amicably for a few more minutes. Both seasoned, troubled heroes looked out at the city below, watching yellow lights flash and cars zip around sharp corners.

 

Time was irrelevant in a city that never slept and to beings that never got older.

 

Wade’s free hand reached up to pull off his mask in one swift motion. He tossed the red and black material onto the rooftop’s gravel, exhaling long and hard, scrubbing a hand down his face. Peter turned to look at him once before returning his gaze back to the city.

 

“So much easier to breathe without that thing on,” spoke Wade, sliding his hand off Peter’s head.

 

“Yeah I can sympathize. Thor’s got it easy.”

 

“He’s got everything easy. He’s a Norse fucking god.”

 

“His face is also something off a dramatic romance novel for middle aged women with bad sex lives.”

 

“Maybe I’ll call him Fabio next time I see him. He’s got that whole exotic accent vibe goin’ for him.”

 

“I’ll call him Fabio if you do.”

 

Wade chuckled, his smile white and bright against the dark. Peter liked it when Wade smiled. The display was something so real and gentle, so unlike the merc’s flamboyant, brash personality. Peter had a good feeling the merc with the mouth smiled a lot for show, but never really smiled for real.

 

You know, unless it was with him, thought a selfish part within Peter. But then again, as of late, Peter had only really smiled when he was with Wade. _Ugh,_ sometimes the hero had to stop and wonder how it all happened.

 

“Yeah, he’s got it lucky with his face,” said Wade quietly, after his smile went away.

 

Peter could tell his rooftop companion allowed some self-deprecation to slip into his tone. 

 

“Wade,”

 

“What?”

 

“Wade.”

 

“What?” pressed the other man, pitch rising.

 

“It’s never bothered me,” the hero stated plainly.

 

Wade wasn’t nervous about taking his mask off in front of Peter anymore. They had moved past that a year ago. Sure Peter was surprised and a bit taken back at first by the degree of scarring on Wade’s face but he’d seen worse things. The guy didn’t even look that bad, and Peter felt touched that Wade would reveal his face to him, considering how insecure Wade was about it.

 

Peter had always taken into account Wade’s insecurities, ever since they began fighting together. Wade was strong and spirited naturally, but when the topic came to his body, the older man’s composure could slip easily. So Peter paid super- extra attention to never bring up Wade’s past or ask him to take off his mask or anything that could trigger bad memories. But sometimes Wade brought it up himself and Peter had to shut him down, before Wade’s dark thoughts could materialize.

 

“Yeah you’re one in seven billion Spidey.”

 

“Oh c’mon Wade, it’s- it’s a face,” Peter reminded gently.

 

Wade was dead silent for a few seconds. The young hero could’ve sworn he heard Wade mutter _‘Vanessa,’_ under his breath but then the mercenary was up and turning away, grabbing his mask off the ground. Peter noticed one gloved hand aggressively twitching on the holster of his thigh pistol, Peter noticed that tick.

 

It was the tick Wade would do when he was anxious to shoot something or someone, usually himself. And _hell no, hell no! -_ was Wade killing himself tonight- or ever- if Peter could stop it.

 

It took him a moment but Peter popped right up, grabbing onto the taller man’s forearm. Wade stopped immediately and glanced down at Peter’s hand then back up at Peter’s face then back down to where his arm was being gripped tightly.

 

“Uhh, Spidey,” his voice sounded strained, “Any reason why you’re using your super strength to hold onto me?”

 

Peter’s eyes bulged. “Oh god! Sorry! Didn’t mean to!” apologized Peter, hastily removing his hold on Wade.

 

“Didn’t know you wanted me to stay that bad,” teased Wade, rubbing circulation back into his arm, but the remark lacked any real mirth.

 

Clearly Wade wanted to be somewhere else, doing something else… the thought of it made Peter’s insides churn. He had seen it once before when Wade thought he was alone and Peter was just swinging in before hearing the gunshot and the thump of dead weight to the floor. To find your friend’s head scattered across the walls and floors’, dripping with blood was… horrific to say the least. Peter had very nearly fainted. Instead he waited up for hours for Wade to - grow another head back- and then proceeded to yell at him for giving Peter a _“fucking heart attack you asshole!”_

Peter may have latched onto him like a koala bear after that but no one needed to know. It was a one-time thing.

 

Now, Peter didn’t know how to handle the situation. Wade hated conversation that seemed to go an interventionist manner. He would bolt if Peter so much as mentioned the word ‘suicide’ so distraction seemed like the most logical choice. But alas, what to distract him with?  Wade was looking anywhere but Peter, foot tapping anxiously against the gravel and fingers twitching at his sides.

 

“Look Spidey sorry I gotta cut this rendezvous short but I have something to take care of so I really should be-,”

 

“Don’t go yet,” blurted Peter. 

 

Wade blinked down at him. “Um, Okayy…”

 

The taller man was looking down at him expectantly but words still couldn’t form in Peter’s mind. He stood there helplessly for a few seconds. “Umm..”

 

“Alright well then I’ll see ya’ round Spidey,”

 

And with that, Wade was turning and moving quickly towards the edge of the roof, preparing to make his escape. Peter felt desperation claw at his skin and his heart thump wildly. It was making his mind fuzzy, but all he knew was that he couldn’t let Wade go like this. He cared about the mercenary, more than he’d like to admit, and the thought of finding the man’s cold, dead body later was making him scared. And he never got scared anymore.

 

“Wade!” hollered Peter, running towards where the other man was preparing to jump down.

 

“Wade! Wade! Wait!”

 

He was nearing Wade’s figure but it still looked like he was going to jump. Peter began to run faster and call out louder.

 

When he finally reached Wade, the other man’s legs were dangling off the edge of the rooftop, poised and positioned to jump. Peter felt his throat close up but managed at the last second to get Wade’s attention.

 

“Wade,” panted Peter, waving his arms, “Just don’t go yet alright? You haven’t even made a comment about my ass yet!” Not the most eloquent thing he’s ever said- but hey- the effort was there.

 

Wade just regarded him silently atop the concrete slab, slowly hauling his legs back up onto the rooftop floor. Peter was expecting him to make some smart remark, but instead the merc continued to stare at him, jaw slack and eyes wide. Peter was very confused.

 

“Um, Wade?”

 

“And who the _hell_ are you?” asked Wade, very pointedly, smile playing on his lips.

 

And that’s when Peter realized his mask was off. _Shit_.

 

He felt his cheeks heat up and gave Wade a sheepish smile, thinking _oh fuck it_.

 

“Uhh… yeah I’m Peter.”

 

 Wade began to laugh, very enthusiastically, clutching a hand to his stomach.

 

“Oh man! Oh shit,” gasped the merc in between breaths, “Well fuck me Petey,” spoke Wade, hopping down, “I stand corrected. You could pass for eighteen.”

 

***

 

Soo that happened eight months ago and once the ice was broken, it was broken. They became closer as trust began to seriously build. Peter finally had someone to open up to. He even told Wade about Aunt May, who until then- was a secret Peter was convinced he was going to have to keep forever. Wade insisted, pinky promised, that he would keep all of Peter’s secrets. _“It’s not like I have anyone to tell.”_

 

They hung out a lot more too, not in a team up way, but a friendship way. They weren’t together twenty four seven but they saw each other enough to qualify as more than just business associates. Sometimes Peter would swing by Wade’s apartment, rip off his mask, throw himself onto the cotton couch, and muffle his voice into a pillow, venting about how annoying his boss was at the Bugle or how thick headed Tony Stark could be sometimes. Wade would just listen, throwing in an occasional comment, while polishing his katanas.

 

It was nice for him to have someone there. That continued on for a while, Spidey showing up randomly, striking up conversation whenever he had free time or was nearby. They grew pretty damn close and Wade was beginning to warm up to the idea of reoccurring company. Peter showed up one day, tossing his mask through Wade’s open window, landing perfectly on the coffee table, before following it- ducking in through the window pane. He was sucking on a practically empty Capri Sun, and Wade gave him a look.

 

“What?” a gargled slurp, “I need sugar after fighting bad guys,” supplied Peter defensively.

 

Wade scoffed, “Yeah, twenty five years old my ass.”

 

Peter webbed his feet together. And after that, Wade had kept packages of Capri Suns holed up in his refrigerator and if Peter asked, he could claim he was allowed to drink them because he was an adult. But going by the emptiness of his fridge and the multiple juice pouches strewn across his apartment, Peter knew they were for him.

 

***

 

Their friendship began to flip flop into something else after Wade had to go away for a while, employed on a months’ job to Tokyo. He didn’t leave a note or tell Peter he was leaving. He didn’t think it was important.

 

When he got back, exhausted but fifty thousand dollars richer, he was surprised- no more like bewildered- to find a certain Spider glaring at him from behind the kitchen island. He eased his shoulders and his duffel bags dropped to the floor with a loud clunk; then he gave a hesitant wave. Peter didn’t wave back. He vaulted over the counter with way too much grace and stalked right up to Wade’s chest.

 

“Where the hell have you been?” demanded Peter. He looked sulky. 

 

Wade lifted his eyebrows, taken back by the confrontation. “Um sorry honey, I forgot to tell you. Work had me going abroad,” offered Wade, sweetly.

 

The younger man rolled his eyes, so cute and dramatic. “Okay and you didn’t tell me because?” pressed Peter.

 

Wade felt a smile toying at his lips. “Wait wait wait don’t tell me you actually missed me?”

 

Peter scowled, pushing at Wade’s chest.

 

Now, Wade fully expected the push that came his way, but he didn’t expect the sudden press of Peter’s lips against his own not even a second later.

 

He sure as hell didn’t expect it, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t welcome it. And after that, it was official: they were friends with some ‘serious’ benefits.

 

The sex was never slow or timid. Peter was surprisingly demanding in bed, always knowing what he wanted, and when he wanted it, and who was Wade not to give it to him? And Christ, Peter was so beautiful with his long, lithe body and smooth, pale skin, covering strong, well defined muscles. He also had a thick, bouncy ass, for the icing on the cake.

 

To sum it up, his body was perfection, and responded to Wade’s touch stunningly: back arching, neck exposing, and dick leaking as Wade pushed deep inside of him. Peter would always moan brokenly, the air caught in his throat, during the first thrust in. Their wildly indulgent sexual relationship was fervent throughout the hot summer months, until autumn descended and the air swirling about New York became lighter and cooler at night.

 

One fall morning, at exactly four twenty seven, because Wade’s memory is impeccable, the mercenary awoke with the spider snug and bare against his side. He realized, with startling clarity, two things at the exact same time. One: that Peter had been living in his apartment for a straight month and because of that, Wade hadn’t blown his head off in some time. Two: Peter had been keeping a spare suit besides Wade’s in the tiny wooden closet across from the bed. And if Wade said seeing Peter’s red and blue spidey suit next to his didn’t send him into an uncontrollable smiling fit, then he’d be a liar, a filthy fucking liar.  

 

***

 

So that’s how they got here, with Wade silently fuming across the room while Peter caught up with the ‘Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.’ And what kind of stupid ass, overly dramatic superhero name was that?  I mean honestly, thought Wade, the cheesiness of that nickname was fucking cringe worthy.

 

Wade was slumped in a chair, eyeing the pair closely, while weaving a small throwing knife between his fingers. You know, in case he needed it. They looked too friendly, way too friendly to not have been involved at some point. Just the thought made Wade’s blood boil. He wanted to stalk over there and snatch Peter away from Murdock’s appreciative gaze. And yeah, the guy’s blind but he still had a way of looking at Peter like he wanted to devour him.

 

Peter had insisted on stopping by to catch up with the vigilante, which was you know, suspicious in itself. Why did they need to stop by this beat up, low rent, not air conditioned lawyer office?

 

Oh yeah, Peter had told him, something about Matt needing extra information about a crime scene Peter was present at. Present, obviously because he was saving people not instigating it; his Petey is a goddamn hero.

 

Still, it was like nine at night, why was Murdock dressed to the nine in a figure hugging grey suit and skinny blue tie with his stupid hair perfectly styled to the side? Why was he leaning back against his desk, ‘invitingly’, with his cane standing between his legs and his hands resting- almost regally- atop its handle? Why was he smiling so much up at Peter? Why was Peter smiling so much back at Matt? Why were they both standing so close together? Wade didn’t like any of it.

 

He tried to calm his nerves, taking deep slow breaths; Wade’s horrible with being patient. But he figured if he could child out a bit, his enhanced senses would kick in and he’d be able to hear the two’s conversation. Not because he doesn’t trust Peter, because his boyfriend’s perfect, but because he doesn’t trust this Murdock guy… Even though he’s only heard really good things about him… but still!

 

***   

 

It was really good to catch up with Matt. Peter hadn’t seen him in a while, Daredevil had been keeping himself super busy in the past year- all that with the Punisher and the ancient Japanese cults. Peter worried over Matt sometimes because despite his enhanced senses and fighting ability, he was still just a man.

 

Often times Peter had swung by Matt’s apartment to say hello and found the man groaning, bruised and shredded, on his couch. Good thing Peter was adept in first aid at this point in his superhero career, or else Matt would’ve bled out if it wasn’t for Peter’s patch work.

 

“So one more question, sorry to be so dull,” Matt apologized, ducking his head chivalrously.

 

Peter laughed. “No, it’s really okay. If it’s going to help you solve this case of course I’m willing to help you to my best ability, or more to my memory’s best ability,” joked Peter, realizing how corny it sounded as soon as he said it.

 

But the thing is about Matt, he never called Peter a dork or teased him on his awkwardness. He always smiled in response to Peter’s jokes, even the lame ones, and Matt’s ever present, gracious kindness has always stuck with Peter.

 

That’s what drew him to the man in the first place, but that was years ago when he was much younger and much more naïve. Matt was fantastic, handsome and polite, and irresistibly intriguing, but in the end, it was Peter who had decided they’d be better off as friends.

 

Peter just felt so _young_ around Matt and okay to be fair he _was_ young but Matt really made him feel it. And he didn’t do it intentionally. It’s just that the vigilante was always so dignified and resolute in himself, so well- grounded and introspective of his character and purpose. And that was back when Peter hardly knew who he was, and what he was supposed to do. Matt just oozed maturity and sensuality, and even though he never treated Peter anything but right, the younger man just so off balance in their relationship. Also Peter had no idea what Matt saw in him in the looks department. He was so ordinary looking and Matt was so chiseled and attractive. It made no sense. So it had to come to a close.

 

Also if Matt was ever upset about Peter breaking it off, he never showed it, and continued on their friendship as if nothing ever happened.

 

Matt coughed and Peter realized he had been daydreaming, completely missing the question uttered a minute ago. He shook his head quickly.

 

“Um sorry, could you repeat that?”

 

Matt looked very amused. He straightened himself up on the desk. “I asked-,” a slight pause, leaning in close, to make sure he still had Peter’s attention, “If you remember anyone else besides those two young men at the crime scene.”

 

“Oh!” exclaimed Peter, a tad too loudly, he winced, “No, sorry I- I don’t remember anyone else.”

 

“Nothing to be sorry about Peter,” responded the older man, smiling fondly at him.

 

Peter felt his face flush under such scrutiny. “Right, right yeah I know,” Peter mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor.

 

“So Peter,” said Matt, clapping his hands together, “Let’s talk about something else. I haven’t seen you in almost a year.”

 

Peter looked back up. “Oh yeah I know! I mean I know you’ve been really busy with all your Daredevil stuff lately so um, you know I didn’t want to bother you or anything,”

 

Matt broke out into a smile, charmed by the younger man’s quirkiness. “My ‘daredevil stuff’ has been keeping me busy lately,” Matt admitted coyly, “But you could never be a bother to me Peter. I always look forward to seeing you.”

 

“Oh yeah same, to you too! I always look forward to seeing you too. Yeah, I’ll visit more. You know if you want me to,” said Peter, very un-articulate.

 

Matt pushed himself up, and rested his cane against the desk, suddenly standing very close to Peter. And despite being ‘blind,’ Peter knew Matt could perceive special reasoning better than most.

 

“You know, I think I’d really like it if you came to visit me more. I-,” stopped Matt, shaking his head and laughing warmly, “I miss your laugh.”

 

Right on que, Peter began to laugh, full on flustered. “Oh, ha, well thank you?”

 

“You’re welcome. Oh that reminds me, one of my clients is a highly respected member of the biochemical department at Columbia. He’s given me an invitation to the annual SDAC convention next weekend,” Peter felt his heart jump to his throat, that’s like the biggest science breakthrough convention ever, “I remember you telling me how badly you wanted to go, and since we’re looking to spend more time together- would you like to go with me?”

 

 _Oh my god_ , of course he wanted to go! Never in his wildest dreams did Peter ever think he would ever get to go there.

 

His voice was practically buzzing with excitement, “Oh of course I’d love to go! Wow I can’t believe you actually want to take-,” Peter abruptly cut himself off because his spidey sense began to hum all of a sudden.

 

That’s when the whiz of a small knife zoomed past his shoulder and headed straight for Matt’s face. For a split second, Peter thought he was too late but then Matt’s hand quickly shot up and delicately caught the blade between his pointer and middle finger.

 

Peter heard himself exhale, relieved, and then felt a warm presence against his back. He felt anger wash over him, why did Wade throw a fucking knife at Matt’s face? Peter was about to go off on him but first Matt.

 

“Oh my god Matt I’m so sorry, I- I just sorry. I don’t know why-,”

 

A rumbling voice behind Peter cut him off, “Look ‘Matt’,” sneered Wade, between his teeth, “I’ve been sitting very patiently in that chair across the room listening to you flirt on my boyfriend for the past half hour and quite frankly, I draw the line at blatantly asking him out when I’m in the room.”

 

Matt smirked, rubbing the sharp blade against the pad of his thumb.

 

“Apologies, Mister-?”

 

“Wilson,” snapped Wade.

 

“Oh well I apologize Mr. Wilson if you felt I was overstepping a line but I was simply inviting Peter to an event I thought he’d enjoy going to.”

 

“Yeah Wade,” snapped Peter, elbowing his boyfriend in the abdomen, “He was just being nice.”

 

“Uh huh, right look, I’d say it was nice to meet you Matty boy but it really wasn’t. So um stay away from my boyfriend or else things will go bad for you. And um, Peter I think it’s time to go now.”

 

“What? What the hell Wade? No I’m not leaving yet-,”

 

“Well sorry you feel that way but we really should be going.”

 

And with that, Wade scooped up his boyfriend throwing him over his shoulder with ease and walked out of the office. Peter fought him to no avail and was resigned to awkwardly waving back at Matt as they exited the room. Matt gave a stilted wave back.

 

When they got outside, Wade finally dropped him and Peter stepped back, anger finally bursting through.

 

“What the fuck Wade? You can’t just throw a knife at someone! Or- or pick me up without asking me first! Or accuse my friend of hitting on me! Or- or-,”

 

Wade talked over him. “Peter calm down. First off, I knew the fucker would catch the knife okay? So no harm no foul. Second off, you like being picked up so don’t act like you’re mad at me for that. Third off, you are one hot piece of ass okay?”

 

Peter stared gaping at him, wholeheartedly confused. “What- what the fuck does that have to do with anything?” protested Peter, angrily.

 

“You’re hot Peter, and Shhshhshh!” shushed Wade when his boyfriend opened his mouth to speak, “Let me finish. You’re hot. And even though you don’t think you are, because you’re a modest person, aw so cute, you’re still hot as hell and a lot of people think that alright?”

 

“Um okay?” acknowledged Peter, still not following.

 

“Which means,” continued Wade, “People are going to hit on you. And I didn’t notice this until we actually got together, but you’re kind of like the girl next door in the superhero world.”

 

Peter’s eyes bulged. “What?” exclaimed the younger man, “That’s so, so not true!”

 

“Really? You really wanna argue with me on that?”

 

“Yes I do because there’s no way that’s true, like at all!”

 

“How would you know? You don’t even realize when people are flirting with you!”

 

“Because no one does! Why would they? I mean I’m just… this,” spoke Peter, frowning, making a flippant gesture towards his body.

Wade groaned. “Exactly.”

 

Peter scrubbed his hands down his face. “Wade, look it’s really nice that you would think that but it’s just not true.”

 

“Baby boy,” spoke Wade, pulling Peter into his chest and resting his head atop the young hero’s, kissing his temple sweetly, “Let’s do an experiment.”

 


	2. Johnny Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking a hella long time to update. This chapter took me a while to write, enjoy!!!!

Wade loved the way he woke up every morning, with Petey’s bare torso pressed up against his side and one of the younger man’s arms thrown lazily across the merc’s chest. As soon as Wade popped open his eyes, he could tell Peter was already awake.

 

His boyfriend was a notorious early riser while Wade enjoyed sleeping in like every other normal human being. But Peter was funny because he had no problem staying in bed all day, lazing around and having sleepy under- the- covers morning sex, the kid just liked to wake up early for some reason.

 

Wade yawned and stretched his arms over his head, feeling his back and shoulder joints pop gloriously back into place. Peter snuggled in closer and began to rub tiny circles against Wade’s chest, mumbling a soft “Morning,” into his shoulder.

 

“How long have you been up?” Wade asked eventually, sliding one arm under Peter’s head.

 

Peter adjusted easily, his head resting in the crook of Wade’s elbow. He sighed happily when the older man began to massage his temple.

 

“Mm not long,” replied the hero, dropping his hand lower to trace over Wade’s abs.

 

“That tickles.”

 

“Good,” retorted Peter, wiggling his neck out from the crook of Wade’s elbow to look up at him challengingly.

 

The tickling began to intensify and Peter seemed to be enjoying making Wade squirm. The merc let Peter have his fun for another couple of minutes before pulling the younger man close and searing their mouths together. The couple just enjoyed the familiar sensation of one another’s kiss, their lips and tongues moving lazily in between them. The wet sounds of their mouths drowned out the faint beeps and shouts from the NY streets outside their window.

 

After a while of tame kissing, Peter began to map out Wade’s body again with deliberate touches, finger tips digging into the muscles of his shoulders before dragging down and gripping onto the merc’s wide biceps. Wade groaned and rolled over on top, pressing the younger man into the mattress with his hips.  He held Peter’s face in between his hands, leaned down, and kissed him again. He didn’t stop until the young hero was out of breath and panting desperately against his mouth.

 

Wade pulled back slightly to let his boyfriend catch his breath. Peter held onto him close, gripping the nape of his neck and resting his forehead against Wade’s as he inhaled deeply. The mercenary’s eyes flickered downwards to watch the rapid rise and fall of Peter’s slim chest. His boyfriend’s body belonged in a goddamn museum with the way it was finely sculpted yet smooth around the edges.

 

Wade leaned into suck just beneath Peter’s collarbone, and the younger man writhed beneath him, arching up into the touch. Wade slid his right hand underneath Peter and trailed it downwards until it rested in the hollow of his lower back. He pulled upwards; keeping Peter’s back curved off the bed and close to his touch.  He spread the hero’s thighs with his other hand and grinded down, hard.

 

“Unghh, Wade,” whined Peter, pressing back against him.

 

Wade continued to grind his hips slowly down between Peter’s legs, feeling the younger man’s hardness grow beneath his flannel pants. Peter was moaning at the delicious friction, each drawn out thrust rocking the bed back into the wall. Wade leaned in close to Peter’s ear, his voice deep and raspy.

 

“Slow or fast baby?”

 

“Fast Wade. Fast,” answered Peter promptly.

 

Wade chuckled, ducking down to smother his boyfriend’s mouth with his own, their noses squishing together. “God, I love you so fucking much,” Wade panted against Peter’s jawline as he pushed down the younger man’s pajama bottoms and gripped his leaking member.

 

The sudden contact ripped a breathless moan out of Peter, who tightened his grip around Wade’s neck. The hold was borderline painful but Wade never stopped his super strength boyfriend from being super strength-y, especially in bed and especially when it was really hot, which it always was.

 

Wade was steadily jerking Peter off, gathering pre cum and smearing it up and down his length. He then pressed a chaste kiss to the younger man’s cutely freckled shoulder before lowering his hand to circle a teasing finger at Peter’s entrance.

 

“Mmm, you think you’re still loose from last night baby?” Wade asked, stroking up and down the cleft between his cheeks.

 

“Yeah,” answered Peter breathlessly, tracing his tongue along his swollen bottom lip. His pupils dilated. “Trust me. I would know the current condition of my own ass.”

 

“True, but it’s best to make sure. We’ll just skip the pleasantries.”

 

And with that, Wade thrusted in three fingers into his boyfriend’s slackened hole.

 

“Oh! Oh my fucking god Wade!” shouted Peter in surprise, gripping the headboard behind him in a white knuckled grip.

 

“Yeah, that’s pretty,” commented Wade, drinking in Peter’s tensed body. Each one of his muscles was tightened and flexed; his chest was heaving. Instead of giving the younger man time to adjust, Wade pushed his fingers in even more, wiggling them around as he went. Peter’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, his grip splintering the wooden headboard. They’d probably have to buy another one…dammit that’s six.

 

“Yeah,” urged Wade, “Take it. You’re so good for me.”

 

He began thrusting his fingers in and out of Peter’s ass at a leisurely pace. Each pump was long, drawn out, and slow. The stretch was maddening for Peter who was conflicted between asking for more or telling Wade he had overestimated the _“current condition of his ass.”_

 

“Oh my god Wade, shit!” yelled Peter, biting down on his lip, leaned up on his elbows to watch Wade’s fingers pump in and out him mercilessly. Wade twisted his fingers around, widening Peter’s hole even further making room for his dick. The merc then placed one hand on Peter’s chest and roughly pushed him back down on the bed, the impact resulting in a loud ‘thump.’

 

To lessen the burn, Wade wrapped one hand around Peter’s hard member and began to stroke. The younger man keened, his back curving off the bed to form a perfectly erotic picture with his chest heaving, mouth ajar, and strands of hair covering his eyes.

 

Wade fingered Peter a little while longer, adding a fourth finger somewhere along the way, before deeming his boyfriend ready and removing his fingers from the slick heat.

 

“You ready?” asked Wade, lining up his cock with Peter’s entrance.

 

Peter sagged against the bed with his arm thrown across his face, “I think I’m gonna’ pass out,” teased the younger man smiling.

 

“Tell me if it’s too much babe,”

 

And with that, Wade slid in with one smooth thrust and Peter practically screamed.

 

***

 

“Did’ya hear me Johnny?”

 

Ben’s words were muffled by his headphones but Storm didn’t care enough to ask his teammate to repeat what he’d said or stop typing on his phone.

 

**To Spidey: ‘U going tonite?’**

 

Instead, “Wait what’d you say? Do I want to buy some molly?”

 

When there was no response Johnny returned his attention to applying the perfect amount of heat to his lukewarm coffee and waiting for Parker to respond.  Controlling the intensity of the flames was always difficult when fire was never meant to be controlled and waiting for Parker to reply was always a bitch because the guy actually took forever.

 

 

A bit of steam was just beginning to rise out the top of his cup when suddenly his headphones were ripped from his ears. The action startled an uncontrolled blast of flames from his palms that knocked over his coffee and lit the napkins on fire. 

 

“Oh shit, shit!” cursed Johnny as he pushed out his chair from the table and ran over to the sink.

 

He’d have to put it out the old fashioned way as Susan hadn’t gone and gotten a new fire extinguisher yet. Their old one had been used yesterday.

 

“Fuck, Sue’s gonna kill me for lighting the house on fire two days in a row,” the blonde babbled, filling a cup up with water and throwing it onto the table.

 

The fire sizzled momentarily, annoyed, before doubling in size. “What the actual?” seethed Johnny turning back to the sink. Then something dawned upon him. He turned slowly around, eyes rolling.

 

“Ugh you’re so annoying, can you please?” he asked, gesturing towards the crackling flames.

 

Ben snickered and raised one big meaty rock hand down to easily smother out the fire. Calm grey smoke began to crawl its way up into the air.

 

“Open a window kid, before the smoke detectors go off and those goddamn firefighters come back again,”

 

“Are you kidding me? We don’t have any windows. The walls are made of freakin’ glass.”

 

On cue, the smoke detector was triggered and began its whaling alarm. Ben groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Why you have to light everything on fire?”

 

“Why did you rip my headphones off my head?”  

 

“Please explain to me how that relates to your pyromania.”

 

“Ugh! I’m not a-,”

 

The sound of the front door opening and closing stopped both men dead in their tracks.

 

“Fuck Sue’s home.”

 

“You’re explaining this shit to her,” ordered Ben.

 

“Me? This is your fault!”

 

“Johnny?” called out Susan, coming up the stairs. Then her footsteps stopped, hearing the alarm. The young hero could practically feel her eyes rolling. “What the hell did you do?”

 

Johnny turned around to notice Ben getting in the elevator, preparing a swift escape.

 

“You suck.”

 

“Just a reminder to get yourself a suit for tonight,” said Ben pointing a knowing finger at him.

 

Storm furrowed his eyebrows, “Yeah, yeah I already have one fitted. I’m picking it up later.”

 

“Just don’t show up wearing ‘flames’ as your outfit again and then get sore because you decided to wear your birthday suit under them while the press weren’t considerate of your nakedness.”

 

“Whatever, at least they were good shots.”

 

**New Message from Spidey:**

**Yeah but as my alter ego, so don’t talk to me flame brain.**

Johnny smiled.

 

***

 

“So, I’m not going to be able to sit down for a week,” Peter mumbled into Wade’s shoulder, sleepy after their morning/afternoon activities.

 

“Sorry babe couldn’t help myself,” spoke the mercenary in Peter’s ear before attacking his neck with wet kisses that had the younger man giggling.

 

“Wait, what do you mean you couldn’t help yourself?”

 

“Had to remind you who your ass belonged to, after Murdock’s eyes had been all over it.”

 

Peter sighed. He had a feeling Wade would be hung up about the whole Matt thing for a while, “Matt’s blind Wade. He can’t even see it.”

 

“Okay fine then his pervasive sixth sense aura that he was using to focus especially hard on your ass.”

 

Peter shrugged, “Sure that could’ve been it.”

 

Wade tensed.

 

“Babe relax,” soothed Peter, trailing his fingers down the older man’s arm. “Matt was only being nice to me.”

 

“A little too nice Peter… a little too nice,”

 

“No, just nice,” corrected the brunette, pecking Wade’s pursed lips, “Trust me I know him.”

 

“Intimately I know…” mumbled Wade, hoping his boyfriend wouldn’t pick up on it. 

 

Peter cocked an eyebrow. He has super hearing of course he freaking heard it, “What was that?” the brunette countered.

 

“He literally asked you out Peter. How could you not have noticed that?”

 

“Because,” Peter began, locking eyes firm with his boyfriend, both hands cupping his cheeks, “It wasn’t like that,”

 

The older man whined. “What good is your spidey sense if it doesn’t warn you about men’s advances?”

 

Peter laughed, rolling away from the man beside him. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, checking the time.

 

“Damnit I got to go get ready soon.”

 

“What? I thought dried out mustache man gave you the day off?” Wade asked.

 

He leaned forward to press his lips against Peter’s bare shoulder, tracing one finger down the length of the younger man’s spine.

 

“He did. The day part, but I’m working tonight,” explained Peter.

 

“Noo, why?”

 

“Stark’s show pony event,”

 

“So show pony number one, our friendly neighborhood Spiderman, won’t be in attendance? The public will be outraged. They’ll demand refunds.”

 

“Spiderman’s got “personal business” to attend to and Peter Parker’s got a job to keep.”

 

“I don’t like you going to events like this,” spoke Wade darkly, “All those men and women ogling their eyes at you.”

 

“Well Spiderman’s the one who gets ogled. I’m not going to be in the spot light, just hanging around taking some innocent pictures.”

 

“Oh please Peter. Everyone ogles you regardless which reminds me! Experiment!”

 

“What experiment?”

 

“The one that’ll help you realize how irresistibly sexy you are.”

 

“Oh,” snorted Peter, “Right.”

 

“Okay listen, this kills me to do this but,” Wade began, winding his arm around Peter’s abdomen, pulling him close, “If someone asks if your single tonight, tell them you are.”

 

Peter pulled away, frowning, “What why?”

 

“Because I want to see how many people hit on you and I want _you_ to see it also.”

 

Confusion and denial began to bubble through Peter’s mind. Why was Wade so hell bent on proving Peter was attractive- to other people? Wade was the only person who needed to think he was attractive anyways. They were together!

 

Also, Peter could never look someone in the eye and tell them he was single when he really, really wasn’t. It’s just un-ethical! And maybe because of Wade’s words of encouragement, Peter would become… disappointed if no one ended up hitting on him or showing interest. Peter already knew he wasn’t much of a looker and he didn’t need the added emphasis on that fact.

 

“Wade I don’t think that’s a good idea,” spoke Peter, shaking his head.

 

“Baby boy,” cooed the older man, using his pointer finger to gently lift Peter’s chin, “It’s no biggy. It’s one little lie for one little night and whatever happens, it’s not going to hurt my feelings. You know I love and trust you more than anything and I really want to do this for you.”

 

“For me? How is this for me?” demanded Peter.

 

“Well the main issue we’re tackling here is your outrageous lack of self-confidence.”

 

Peter flushed red, “I don-, I don’t, I don’t lack self- confidence,” stuttered the younger man, looking away.

 

Wade scrunched up one eye, making a noise through his teeth, “Yeahh you do, and it would be fine… if it didn’t hold you back from doing stuff.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Like last week when we went shopping, that green jacket, you know damn well the one I’m talking about, looked fantastic on you but you put it back because _you_ thought it didn’t look.”

 

“Um well that’s because it didn’t,”

 

“Five employees would disagree with that,”

 

“So! They were probably just-,”

 

“Peter, on the second night we got together you told me that _you_ were intimidated by _my_ body. My. Body,” emphasized Wade in disbelief.

 

“Well, yeah, I mean look at you.”

 

“Look at you!” Wade challenged, gesturing towards Peter’s body.

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“Peter you dated Daredevil and that guy is… not ugly.”

 

Peter just shrugged, toying with the hem of their comforter, quiet and unconvinced. Wade groaned.

 

“Okay babes, how about we make a bet and if you win, you can say ‘I told you so,’ and I will, with minimal complaint, watch those science documentaries with you about atoms and the stuff those atoms do…”

 

Peter nodded his head, “I’m listening.”

 

“And if I win, I get to say ‘I told you so,’ and you have to actively work towards looking at yourself in the mirror and thinking ‘I’m sexy’ okay?”

 

Peter laughed a bit, “O- kay? And the bet?”

 

“I bet that at least two superheroes will hit on you tonight and one will ask to take you home.”

 

Peter scoffed, chuckling at how impossible that was. He laughed for a good minute. Wade just watched him patiently.

 

“You know what?” asked Peter, dangling his lips an inch away from the other man’s face.

 

“What Petey?”

 

“I’ll accept that bet.”

 

They both said, _“Get ready to lose,”_ at the same time.

 

***

 

The event was in full swing when Peter finally arrived. Tons of screaming fans had gathered around the red carpet where heroes were floating, walking, and flying in from everywhere. White flashes illuminated people’s forced smiles and designer outfits.

 

Peter was assigned to work the red carpet and the event inside, lucky him. Taking pictures of his superhero comrades was always kind of awkward especially because they had to pretend like they didn’t know him.

 

By 9:30 the red carpet was supposed to close and Peter was meant to start heading inside, but of course there were those who pushed the limits of what it meant to be ‘fashionably late.’ *Cough cough* Tony Stark and Johnny Storm.

 

They were practically two in the same when it came to the limelight, always late and always best dressed. It was surprising to see how much they didn’t get along in real life.

_‘Maybe too similar?’_ thought Peter.

 

The ear piercing sound of two motors revving around the corner shocked the paparazzi and the fans back to life. The first car to pull up was a bright orange Lamborghini with suicide doors that floated slowly upwards. An impressive burst of fire careened itself out from the open doors, and who else but Johnny storm materialized in its aftermath. The fans went absolutely wild.

 

 _‘Subtle Johnny, real subtle,’_ Peter mocked in his mind, snapping a picture of the young man posing in front of his car. He waved to the fans with a closed mouthed smirk on his face, blue eyes narrowed in a proper smolder. The man was ostentatiously cocky inside and out. He wore it good though, no one could deny; his bold shameless arrogance was part of his wicked charm and his model-esque physique didn’t help anything either.

 

The next car to pull up was of course- Stark’s. It had no brand symbol on it, undoubtedly a custom. The vehicle was sleek and dark, streamline black with neon blue wires running under the transparent hood and lining the tires. It stopped only an inch away from Johnny’s rear end and the fans ‘oooed’ at the bold power play.

 

Johnny whipped his head back and glared as Tony’s white gloved driver held open the door for Stark to step coolly out onto the red carpet. He looked as aristocratic as ever, with a dark navy custom suit and golden cufflinks that probably cost upwards of one hundred thousand dollars. Stark took three dignified steps towards the younger flashier man and placed a demeaning hand on the small of his back, posing for a picture together.

 

The Avenger flashed a perfectly white charismatic smile and the crowd went insane. Then Stark leaned in to whisper something to Johnny. Peter honed in on their conversation.

 

“Trying to show me up at my own event Storm?” questioned Stark into the younger man’s ear.

 

The blonde cocked a guilty smile, still facing the crowd, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Stark. There’s no competition here.”

 

“You’re right, because you wouldn’t even be a competitor,” drawled the older man, pulling away easily.

 

Peter watched as Stark made his way towards the entrance, not stopping to take any pictures. Johnny took a moment to stare at the older man’s retreating back, pained smile resting on his face, concealing the scowl he so desperately wanted to express. After a minute or so, Johnny sauntered down the carpet and disappeared into the party too. Peter took that as the sign to head on inside.

 

***

 

Peter attempted to linger around the outskirts of the crowd tonight. He mostly hid behind his camera, raising it to his eye but never actually taking a picture. The flash would attract too much unwanted attention.

 

His square bulky glasses also helped conceal his appearance somewhat. What sucked was that they were still pre-serum prescription and managed to blur his surroundings more than clarify them. So Peter had to take them off every so often to keep from getting a headache.

 

All in all the event didn’t suck as much as he thought it would. The occasional rich asshole would snap at him for a picture with an unwilling hero or his/her pretentious entourage which was annoying but expected. Peter wasn’t close with the majority of heroes here tonight which was an added bonus.

 

So Peter Parker was having a pretty good time just people watching. Captain Rogers was always a fun one to watch, his blatant discomfort with all the wealthy men and women approaching him was laughable, no doubt about it. Earlier Steve had spotted Peter and gave him a subtle head nod which was enough to make Peter giggle like an idiot for longer than appropriate.

 

Logan was downing shots of whiskey with Natasha at the bar and the poor bartender was too intimidated to cut them off. Dr. Banner was sitting a few seats away watching them with an amused smile.

 

Stark was of unsurprisingly charming the hell out of every person he shook hands with, which was like everyone there. Vision’s preference for floating kicked in early in the night and Tony had excused himself from the crowd he was with to speed-walk over to the purple humanoid and urge him to “please walk.” Wanda had helped Vision appeal to his more human side as well, looping his arm with hers and _walking_ towards Strange.

 

The drinks were complementary for guests and Peter shrugged, figuring he should take advantage of free booze whenever he could. He made his way over to the bar and ordered a tequila. He tapped his fingers against the counter while waiting. Then suddenly a warm, _a very warm,_ presence was behind him and Peter turned around to see who it was.

 

“Hey Parker, can I get a picture?”

 

It was Johnny Storm of course. His body temperature runs ridiculously hot all the time. The blonde was watching Peter with a mischievous smile, eyes sparkling, and doing an overall terrible job at pretending like they didn’t know each other.

 

Peter cleared his throat, keeping his tone professional, “A picture of what?”

 

“Just me,”

 

Peter rolled his eyes, “No thanks, don’t want to waste the memory,” and turned back to the bar, downing his drink.

 

Johnny sidled up to him, resting his weight on his elbows and sighing loudly. Their shoulders were pressed together and Peter could feel the heat radiating off of Johnny’s body even under all the clothes.

 

“I thought I told you not to talk to me tonight Johnny,” mumbled Peter, eyes downcast, tracing the rim of his glass casually.

 

“And you of all people should know that telling me not to talk to you, only makes me want to talk to you even more.”

 

Peter snorted, “Are you four?”

 

“Times six, yes,”

 

“Wow you can do math.”

 

“Basic multiplication, yeah I went to elementary school.”

 

“But stopped before sixth grade?”

 

“No I just stopped paying attention at sixth grade,”

 

“I believe it.”

 

“I’m sure you do.”

 

Peter chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head, thoroughly amused. He and Johnny always bounced off one another so easily. Let it be said that Johnny Storm was never a bore to be around.

 

“Okay whatever, to make you happy, let’s just pretend I don’t know you,” Johnny turned away for a moment, his back towards Peter, and then whirled around again, “Hi, what’s your name?”

 

The brunette gave him a cautious side eye, “Um… Peter.”

 

“I’m Johnny Storm. I’m sure that you as an ordinary, not super in any way citizen have heard of me.”

 

Peter bit his lip, eyes narrowing, pretending to be deep in thought, “Hmm… You’re that fire dude right?”

 

“Yeah sure. A member of the Fantastic Four, it’s nothing really.”

 

“Sounds interesting,” replied Peter airily.

 

“I am interesting.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Are you interested?”

 

“In what?”

 

“Me.”

 

Peter paused, “Wait, what?”

 

“You and I together at my apartment, preferably tonight, like old times. Does that sound _interesting_?”

 

“Johnny,” chided Peter, “I’m in a-,” Peter cut himself off right before he could say ‘relationship.’

 

Despite his lack of enthusiasm, he had to stay true to Wade’s experiment. He had genuinely accepted the bet after all. Peter swallowed his pride and pushed away his insecurities. Tonight he had to suck it up.

 

“In a… what? Are you seeing someone?” asked Johnny, suddenly serious. A spark of orange flared behind his irises.

 

Peter swallowed. He was thankful that Johnny didn’t know him and Wade were an item. It would make things a lot easier, “Um… no?”

 

“Alright so then what’s the holdup Parker?”

 

“Johnny, I’m not nineteen anymore.”

 

The blonde man stared blankly down at Peter, “So what?”

 

“You’re not nineteen anymore.”

 

“I don’t know where this is going.”

 

“So-,” drawled out Peter, “I’m not just going to follow you back to your apartment and spread my legs like a cheap whore after you pull that move when you light yourself completely on fire and then put yourself out so you’re left standing in front of me naked.”

 

“It’s not my fault it always worked on you.”

 

Peter elbowed the other man’s shoulder.

 

“Oww,” remarked Johnny, rubbing at his swollen arm.

 

Neither of them said anything for a moment, the silence dragging on for an uncharacteristically long amount of time. Peter began to shift in his seat; he could feel Storm’s eyes on him. The silence was just long enough to make whatever words came next meaningful and pronounced.

 

“But I miss you. You know I always want you.”

 

Then suddenly, Peter felt a gentle pressure on the small of his back. Storm had brought his left hand up to rest there, splaying his fingers out wide to feel as much of Peter as possible. Then the warming began, a sweet slithering heat emanated from Johnny’s fingers and spread its deliciously soothing effect onto Peter’s spine, seeping into skin, his sensitive nerves eating up the pleasure. A sigh passed through the young hero’s lips.

 

Peter could feel the warmth of Johnny’s breath against his ear.

 

“You know I can make it feel like this Peter. All over, especially when I’m inside you,”

 

Then the warming faded away and the pleasure was drawn out of him in an instant. Johnny had removed his hand and was waiting for Peter to respond.

 

But a sharp memory flashed through Peter’s mind once Storm had backed away. He remembered that sex with Johnny was like a drug, hot and flying high when you were in it, but cold and unfeeling without it. To experience such an extreme pleasure only for it to be taken away minutes later was addictive and straight toxic to their relationship, especially because Johnny was the sole supplier.

 

And then Peter thought of Wade and how well balanced their relationship was. It had just enough friendship, passion, and love to make every time spent together one of the best times of Peter’s life and hell yeah it was cheesy but Wade really was his second half, his missing piece, his… soulmate? Who knows? But he thought of this and smiled and shook his head ‘no’ to Johnny who gave Peter a weird look before walking off.

 

Peter watched with impassive eyes as Johnny made his way over to his friends and began talking heatedly with them, occasionally gesturing back to Peter, and shaking his head. Peter just laughed to himself and sipped his drink, trailing his eyes around the room until they locked onto another pair, already watching him, dark and brown. Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's Johnny Storm for ya! Please comment and tell me what you think!!! I read every single one. Also if you're wondering why Wade wasn't at the gala it was because he's first off, not a hero and wouldn't even want to go to something like this. And also there will be a chapter with Wade's reactions in it after Peter carries out with the whole experiment and reports back to Wade, so don't worry! Thanks for reading love all of you! <3


	3. Tony Stark Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets invited upstairs by Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry that it's taken me FOREVER to write a chapter. I've been thinking that I might make this story longer than I intended because I'm having fun writing it when I have the time. Anyways if you're still here THANK YOU and please enjoy.

The night seemed to be dragging on forever. The first few hours had been bearable as the drinks were free and the people watching proved amusing. However, now heroes and humans alike were plainly mulling about the dance floor, champagne flutes hung loose between easy fingers, wistfully desiring to be home in bed. At least that’s how Peter was feeling.  

 

He was bored and had a faint ten minutes and counting buzz. He couldn’t talk to any of his hero comrades either, which only added to the dullness of the night. The last hour had been spent ordering multiple tequila shots at the bar, probably looking like some pitiful young college kid alcoholic. But who cares. Another one.

 

“Hey, scuse’ me sir can I get another one of these tequi-,”

 

“-La shots, hm no,” interrupted a man beside him, “How about two glasses of the Cabernet forty one. Yes, on the top shelf Mark. I’m sure it’s that kind of night,” laughed a familiar voice beside him.

 

Peter frowned, upper lip jutting out and eyes narrowed, “Hey I was ordering-,” began the brunette, turning his head to sentence this man to a very annoyed look. Except this man was Tony Stark and Peter immediately straightened up in his seat, eyes widening in surprise. He fumbled with words in his head for a good minute.

 

“Uhm hey- hey Mr. Stark.”

 

Stark reached to collect the glasses, smiling warmly at the bartender, attention completely not on Peter. He shimmied a hand into his suit pressed pocket and pulled out a few bills which he laid out on the counter. Peter shifted awkwardly in his seat.

 

Then with some deft maneuver, one of the glasses was shoved suddenly into his hand while Stark’s front was pressed gently against his side, voice right into his ear.

 

“Take this glass Parker. Drink half of it slow then meet me on seventy- four. I got something to show you.”

 

“O-okay?”

 

Peter fumbled awkwardly with the wine glass, two hands gripping the body of it. Clearly no way to hold any wine but the “Cabernet” that rolled off Stark’s tongue sounded expensive and Peter had no intentions of dropping it. He sipped it slowly, like Stark had said to, the smooth aged flavor warming his entire body. He glanced down at the dark red liquid, “Shit’s good…” he whispered to himself, swirling the drink round in its glass.

 

The wine was a species of a divine pampered opulence, a universal rarity, bred with particular abilities that functioned on a higher level than any common alcohol. It could loiter time and quell anxiety, for a short while. Peter thought he’d very much like to feel this calm and warm for a long time but alas, a genetically bolstered metabolism doesn’t let one find prolonged pleasures in these types of things.

 

When half of the liquid was gone, Peter slung his camera back around his neck and made his way towards the elevators. He waited awkwardly for the silver doors to part and stepped quickly inside. As soon as they shut, a voice sounded from all around him, like he was inside the elevator’s consciousness, “Good evening Mr. Parker, Mr. Stark is expecting you on seventy- four.”

 

“Y-yeah, thanks Friday.”

 

“You are very welcome.”

 

The elevator had a smooth climb upwards. Despite its heightened velocity, it felt like he was moving three miles per hour. The ascent gave Peter enough time to feel twitchy and nervous again. He took a small sip of the wine. What did Stark want to talk to him about?

 

The doors soon opened and Peter took a deep breath before stepping out. When the elevator shut and departed, the brunette felt like a young deer that had wandered into the cave of some expecting lion.

 

His eyes scanned the room, there were no lights on, but a full moon glow penetrated coolly through the windows across from him. He was in one of the generous penthouses with ample sitting area and a fully stacked bar to the right.

 

There were no sounds. It was eerily quiet. So quiet that Peter felt uncomfortable to even move. He couldn’t discern any other heartbeats in the room. Where was Stark?

 

“Uhh…” voiced Peter, suddenly feeling very confused.

 

Then the ding of the elevator sounded behind him and he whirled around to see who it was.

 

“Haha Friday, I know it’s funny how she’s so on board. Who would’ve thought,- Oh hey Parker,” greeted Stark, smiling briefly at him.

 

He strolled into the room, squinting against the dark.

 

“You’re here early. That excited to see me?” his eyes swept up and down Peter’s frame, a casual practice.

 

Peter felt a flustered heat rising up his neck, “Oh! Um sorry I wasn’t sure exactly what time you wanted-,”

 

“Why’s itso dark in here?”

 

Peter assumed that was a rhetorical question. He would’ve turned on some lights but, he peered at the walls, were there even light switches in here?

 

“Friday, give us some light please,” requested Stark, slipping off his jacket and tossing it carelessly on the arm of the couch. The custom garment would wrinkle badly no doubt.

 

“Certainly Sir.”

 

Golden light immediately flooded the room, bright enough to make Peter wince.

 

“Jeez Friday lower the intensity. It’s twelve a.m. on a Saturday night. My eyes aren’t accustomed to daytime lighting.”

 

Friday promptly dimmed the lighting, enough to leave the room more in shadows than lit up.

 

“That’s better thanks. Hey Parker you know you can sit. I wouldn't suggest there though, the floor isn’t that comfortable. But there’s chairs and couches available for your sitting pleasure.”

 

“R-right thanks,”

 

Peter’s legs felt wobbly as they carried him over to the couch. He sat right in the center, hands inexplicably clammy against the wine glass. For a split second, Peter imagined the wine coming to life and yelling at him to quit contaminating its exquisiteness but that was irrational.

 

Stark was over at the bar, grabbing two scotch glasses off the shelf. A suspicious look passed over his face as he held the glasses up to the light, scrutinizing them. Maybe a few particles of dust or a smidge of water that hadn’t yet dried? He reached a hand under the bar and pulled out a towel, beginning to clean and rub the sculpted glass.

 

Peter’s eyes cautiously trailed over to the bar where Stark stood with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He couldn’t help but notice the chords jumping in his forearms with each twist and drag of the towel. He couldn’t help but notice the prominent veins that slithered down his fingers to his elbows, tan skin their canvas.

 

Stark glanced up and noticed the younger man’s staring. He smirked to himself and nodded at the wine glass in Peter’s hands.

 

“You uh like the wine?”

 

“Yeah I did. It was great!” Peter winced at his over enthusiasm.

 

Stark made a debating noise in his throat, “Yeahh I’ve had better, but it’s not bad I suppose,” mulled over Stark, placing the glasses down on the table.

 

Peter couldn’t think of a response.

 

“You like scotch?”

 

“Um, yeah enough,”

 

Peter had never tried it.

 

“Good, because this is the good stuff,” declared Stark, twisting off a cap.

 

It was likely that every alcoholic product Stark kept in his possession was an understated “good stuff” but Peter reckoned some of them were just better?

 

Stark dropped two ice cubes into two glasses and made his way over to where Peter was sitting. He leant down, handing the younger man an angular glass with reddish gold liquid in it and smiled warmly down at him. Peter managed a quiet thankyou sans eye contact. He couldn’t pinpoint why he was so nervous, well actually he could. That was a straight up lie.

 

Tony Stark was the kind of man that, when in his presence- inadvertently (but kind of intentionally) made people feel very unsure about every little thing they did, every move, word, or breath was harshly scrutinized much later after the interaction. A conversation with him was the kind of social contact that kept one up at night, eyes frozen on the ceiling in the dark, remembering all the awkward moments, enough to have a mini existential crisis.

He was a man with a towering reputation. Everyone knew about it, so acting normal around the guy was a near dear impossible task.

Even though Peter had worked alongside Stark before (not too much because the whole solo Spiderman thing) and been relatively close enough to him over the years, their shared time wasn’t enough for the younger man to feel completely at ease yet.

He always felt like he had to impress Stark- for what? He doesn’t know. But always managed to fall short- of what? He doesn’t know that either. All he knows is what everyone knows about Tony Stark. He’s rich, he’s outrageously smart, he’s ironman, and he’s… objectively handsome? Objectively of course. Anyone with eyes could see that.

Right now Stark was plopping down in the armchair across from him with an exhausted huff. He took a long sip of scotch, the ice clinking in its glass. Two of his fingers were drawn up to loosen the tie around his neck, dipping inside the stiff collar and pulling out. The action caused the older man’s neck to stretch and preen backwards, the shapeliness of his jawline was on full display and Peter threw back a mouthful of fiery scotch.

He winced at the liquid’s burning drag.

When Stark’s necktie was sufficiently loosened and the top two buttons of his shirt became undone, he lolled his head back forwards and took another drawn out sip. Peter pointedly avoided looking at Stark, deliberately refrained from watching the bob of his throat as he swallowed.  Somehow the man made everything he did seem sensual.

Members of his small entourage were well accustomed to it by now, but those who weren’t well acquainted with his flirtatiousness were easily entranced. Peter wasn’t going into the interaction completely helpless. He knew there were many rumors floating about regarding which Avengers or heroes of the kind Tony had been with.

Captain Rogers and Banner were popular targets of discussion. At this point, the rumors surrounding them were practically fact rather than fiction but no one could definitively prove it. Clint claims he can but loses all credibility because he too was a victim of Tony’s charms. _“It happened once after a mano- a- mano mission. We were flying high off adrenaline and it was fucking fantastic okay? Is everyone gonna’ keep giving me shit about this?”_

Peter realized he had retreated into his thoughts for too long when he looked up and Stark was scrutinizing him closely, dark eyes narrowed. He looked like he was searching for something but couldn’t find it.

Immediately, Peter blushed, inanely assuming that Stark could tell what he was thinking about. The next pull of scotch burned as much as the first two did.

“You look like you want to ask me something,” voiced Stark, eyes locked on Peter.

Words jumbled in the younger man’s mind and he bit his lip to keep from stuttering. God, why was it so impossible to act normal around this man?

“Oh um no not really. Or I don’t think I did. Or if I did I can’t remember… the… question.”

“Hm that’s a first. Usually people always want _something_ from me.”

Peter nodded awkwardly, eyes flittering side to side, trying to shake off Stark’s intense gaze, but it remained firm. He felt so unsure about what to do, how to function goddamn normally.

The man across from him must’ve been intentionally throwing him off because Stark could make the most anxiety wracked person feel at ease; it was part of him forging successful business deals. Fuck Peter wished he could get drunk and not just faintly tipsy.

“I saw you spent most of the evening at the bar,” a pause, “I didn’t think you could get drunk.”

Stark sipped on his scotch.

“I uh, can’t really but if I drink enough and c-consistently, I can get a faint buzz going,” explained Peter, clearing his throat with a cough.

“The highest of tolerances. You and Rogers both. Sounds like a curse.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Drinking hard liquor at bars hardly seems worth it then,” a raise of an eyebrow.

“Yeah well it’s the only way I can feel anything, and at nights like these it’s better than nothing.”

When Peter glanced up, Stark was peering heatedly at him over the rim of his glass. It was a simple look, but the concealed magnitude the man could compress into such a modest advance had Peter’s heart fluttering. Glass suspended beneath his chin, the liquid amber was a rippling golden bath in his palm and reflected light onto the older man’s eyes, making him appear like some bowed lion drinking at a watering hole, dark eyes up, always cunning, attentive, and aware of his surroundings. Peter felt the urge to loosen his tie. Fuck, seriously did it just get really hot in here?

 “Thor left me something,” declared Stark suddenly, “It’s kind of what I wanted to show you. You trying it will also give me something to compare Roger’s results to. I might try to replicate it if it proves generally useful and effective,” spoke Stark, excelling at sounding characteristically cryptic and mysterious.    

Peter sat up straight. Occasionally Stark would call him in to run tests on his physicality, DNA, or just have him try out new weapons or tech the billionaire had pieced together in his lab. So Peter was not expecting the small, anticlimactic vial of clear liquid Tony produced in his hands.

“What is it?” asked Peter, narrowing his eyes at the object.

“Honestly Thor told me the name of it and I couldn’t pronounce it so I forgot it,” answered Stark, tipping the vial upside down in his hands, “But it’s Asgardian liquor, supposedly ‘not meant for mortal men.”’

“Woah that’s kind of sick. Have you tried it?”

“Sure did.”

Peter waited for additional details, “And?”

“I’m not going to tell you what happened. It could make you think less of me,” Stark smirked. 

“And you want me to try it?”

“Yes I do.”

“But I can’t get drunk. I don’t want you to waste it on me.”

The older man twisted off the metal cap, tapping the excess liquid back into its vial. The tender manner in which Stark handled the substance was akin to the delicate treatment of poison.

“I will tell you that Rogers took a shot of this stuff and got so plastered he confessed his wanton desires for me, quite explicitly may I add.”

Peter wished he could sink into the couch and never emerge.

“But we don’t have to worry about that happening to you,” the young hero swallowed thickly, Stark came to stand right over him, “Right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry cliffhangers I know, i'm sorry but I am going to make this story longer so the chapters will come quicker and be a tad bit shorter. I've been obliterated by school work lately but I'm on break now so hopefully I can write more. Thanks to everyone whose reading let me know your opinions i love comments <3
> 
> Sidenote: if you picked up on it, alcohol and lots of it was a consistent theme throughout this chapter because while Peter can’t get drunk off liquids, he can sure as hell “get drunk” off Tony Stark if you know what I mean. *winky face*
> 
> Also I like powerplay, professional flirter Tony a lot. I like him having confidence especially when he wants someone. Let me know if any of you feel the same.


	4. Tony Stark Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship's more confusing than you think.

Peter honestly had no idea where the night was heading, with Stark’s unpredictability, anything was possible. It would be wrong to assume of course, would be so erroneous to even think that Tony Stark was interested in him of all people. Observing how Stark’s eyes lingered on him for longer than usual, noting his “playful” language, were all just presumptions made by Peter whose observations were wholly unreliable due to the fact that Peter perhaps… _wanted_ Stark’s eyes to be on him?

The man was his first, what you could call, celebrity crush. For a science and engineering nerd like Peter, how could he not be? Tony Stark on the cover of Forbes magazine; bright smart eyes; a confident pose; the youngest, most intuitive, and most powerful global industry tycoon already, only in his twenties. And when the Iron Man tech came about, well of course Peter lost his mind, because just! The sheer _intricacy_ of engineering that was required to render the suit was a matter- of- factly- unparalleled, superlative in design, historic across all plains of human ingenuity. Peter had geeked out about it for months.

When he first met Stark, the man embodied the larger than life persona Peter had imagined him to. Unapologetic wit and charisma, a light in his eyes that suggested he was always one step ahead of you because he was. Stark had approached the younger man very aware of Peter’s spider identity, the first thing he said to him was, _“Your webbing’s impressive. Suit needs a little work.”_ Things had taken off from there.

Appropriately his attraction’s grown dimmer over the years as Peter found partners grounded in reality not childish idolatry. Also mixing personal feelings with professional conduct was never a good idea. It was clearly more important early on to prove his testament to heroism rather than make friends.

And as Stark became more familiar, he became more confusing as well. Reading the billionaire philanthropist was never easy, which kept their relationship relatively cordial. Peter had never disagreed with anything Stark suggested, which- in interpreting its merit- didn’t bring them any closer together but also certainly never drove them further apart, unlike Rogers or Fury who had an inborn Stark-oriented skepticism.

Trying to decipher if the tech mogul approved of Peter’s insight or didn’t was always a guessing game; whether or not Stark wanted Spiderman to tag along during more major missions was sometimes unclear; and, Peter couldn’t just go up to Stark and ask for clarification about these things, because the act would make him look young and unworldly. Stark appreciated people who were resourceful, who rolled with the punches and learned from them.

Which eventually Peter understood. It took him awhile to realize that Stark’s tough love act was more of an attempt to help Peter understand his purpose rather than simply coming off as unfriendly. While Peter _was_ an Avenger, he wasn’t like- an Avenger, Avenger. It took him awhile to realize that he very much preferred working alone. Initially, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to become an Avenger, so when Stark approached him it felt like a dream.

But the team ups managed to feel strangely hollow, like a singer finally making it big and selling out Madison Square Garden only to realize the greatest satisfaction was felt performing at small bars or birthday parties. The sacrifice for being an Avenger was connection, connection to the people you saved.

And Peter couldn’t handle that dissonance and Stark _knew_ that. He knew that all along. He knew that he, Rogers, Romanoff, Barton, Thor, etc. were a different kind of heroic breed, the kind that just saved out of duty not purpose.

So he didn’t let Spiderman get too close, knew Peter wouldn’t like it their way and Peter is so thankful for that, even though it’s something he and the man across from him will never address.

But damn if there’s not the most poignant, meaningful surge of attraction every time Peter thinks about it. The chemistry is not physical or shallow like Johnny Storm’s and his arrangement. With he and Tony, the attraction has always been deeply rooted, matured, misunderstood, and evolved over the years, yet still undeniably present; but when they’re together, it’s pointedly ignored, the elephant in the room, a caged nova of intent.

But _goddamn Stark_ , because he deliberately makes his psyche so impenetrable by distancing Peter. The younger man can’t help but doubt everything he knows about Stark, debate if there ever even was an attraction. The only side Stark ever reveals to Peter is his genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist persona. It’s appropriate for the game they play, but it’s incredibly frustrating because Peter wants to tell Stark that he finally gets it now. He fully understands what the older man was attempting to show him.

“Okay Peter, so how we feeling?”

“Good! Actually like weirdly good. I feel like I can do anything,” spoke the younger man, flexing and un-flexing his fingers. The veins in his arms were mesmerizing as they rose then sunk beneath his skin. He raised his palms in front of his face for a better view.

Stark nodded his head, listening. The vial of Asgardian liquor rested on the table, unburdened by only a few drops. Peter had barely registered the sweet, almost creamy fluid on his tongue until he swallowed once. For a few minutes, Peter had felt nothing. He shrugged and suggested he should maybe, _“have some more?”_ Stark had been adamant about the _“not a good idea”_ that followed.

But then, a very abrupt and sensational eruption! He had lay back on the couch for just a moment when a feathery warmth had descended over him, prickling and tickling up the length of his arms and legs. The effect seemed to be sparkling every nerve on his body. A wide eyed vibrancy had overtaken the younger man and he smiled toothily.

“Wow. I feel like I just saved the world,” he threaded his fingers through his hair, stopping and pulling, and pressing it back down.

“That good huh?” asked Stark, both parts amused and unconvinced.

“Well okay maybe not that good but it’s pretty close. Why not try it?”

Stark glanced at him, eyebrow rising, “I have.”

“And?” the liquor had lowered his earlier inhibitions, well, more so erased them completely. All he could feel now was glow, a very pleasant glow.

A sip of scotch, “I don’t think I want to tell you,” the billionaire responded, a tad bit satiric.

“But I want you to tell me.”

Stark’s eyes returned to Peter’s relaxed frame across from him. His mouth dropped into an open smile as a huff of laughter escaped. He played the memory over in his head before responding, “It’s kind of really embarrassing,” he explained, settling comfortably back into his chair.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, “I’ve never seen you do anything embarrassing. Are you even capable of doing something embarrassing Mr. Stark?”

“Oh very capable,” an avid nod of his head, “Exceptionally capable,” Stark mumbled enthusiastically against the brim of his glass.

“I feel like I embarrass myself a lot in front of the others.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah like, every time I screw up- Cap always make an effort to yell at me. So I’m really paranoid about screwing up. He always calls and apologizes later, which I appreciate but-,”

Stark laughs and Peter feels as though he had missed something.

“I didn’t know he calls you,” voices the older man, committing the information to memory.

Peter continues, “Yeah it’s-,”

“Don’t take it too harshly though Peter,” a wave of a hand, “He’s just very protective of you.”

“Protective?”

“Yeah I mean, we all know you can handle yourself and whatnot but Cap’s always been weirdly vigilant about… _you_ , I guess.”

Peter tries to understand that sentence, he really does, “Wait what? Why is he weird about me? Please don’t tell me he hates me. I don’t think I could handle Captain America hating me.”

“Woah calm down. He doesn’t hate you. He just-,” Stark drops off suddenly, shaking his head and drinking from his glass, “You know what, I should really just stop before I say something that’ll get me in trouble.”

“Wait what do you mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,”

Peter was looking at him, very confused.

“Cap’s weird. That’s all I’m going to say. Are you still feeling the effects?”

“What? Yeah I am! That stuff’s awesome.”

“Okay final verdict. Do you think it’d be a good idea to replicate the formula? Offer it to other poor suckers who are alcohol resistant as well? Steve, Logan… Natasha…”

“Definitely.”

“Friday make a note of that.”

“Yes sir.”

“Thanks Peter for being an impromptu test subject. I really needed people with high metabolisms to see if recreating the formula would be worth it.”

“No problem at all. Can’t wait to buy a bottle.”

“Try not to make a habit of drinking it by yourself,”

“Oh,” a reserved laugh, “Right.”

Stark watched him carefully, “Are you…,” a pause, “By yourself? I only ask because a certain somewhat provocative name’s been floating around lately. Tied to you.”:

“What name?” Peter asked airily. He became rather gauzy under the influence.

“Wade Wilson.”

Stark’s tone was disciplined, an assertion that kept any personal nuances out of his voice, anything that would indicate an interest of the special sort. Unreadable, like per usual. Frustrating, like always. Peter half expected Stark to follow up with an “asking for a friend.”

Peter stopped to strategize his response for a moment. It was notably more difficult to admit he was single with Stark than it was with Johnny, higher stakes and all that. With Storm, he knew exactly where the conversation was heading, the _“you know I can make it feel like this all over,”_ proposition, straight forward sexually charged intimacy. With Stark, yeah he was acting covertly suggestive but his words never really correlated with his actions.

Let Peter take you back in time to relive a moment when the goddamn frustration neared its boiling point. It was three and a half years ago, before Wade.

***

_“You’re still up.”_

_Stark was crouched over, knees hard against the floor, his entire right arm- from his shoulder blade to his palm of his hand- was embedded up the leg of model Mark XII, fidgeting with the wires._

_Peter was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, watching on disapprovingly. How Stark’s body managed to concentrate and work after days marked by bloodshed and warfare was beyond him. There had been a biological terrorist attack in Southern Africa, Hyrda indicating once again that it was far from being eradicated._

_There was an uncharacteristically high number of casualties this time around, young and old, no shortage of traumatic experiences that would burn in the back of his mind forever. Most everyone had returned home visibly shaken, except Natasha and… unnervingly Tony. He just disappeared into his workshop._

_The team was still split up. Post- Civil War was a stressful time, especially for Tony. The tower was so empty nowadays, echoic and eerily mechanic without any heartbeats in it. Peter had stayed around, swung in during his free time, meddled about the labs where the older man was spending an unhealthy majority of his time._

_They got pretty close, or as close as Stark would allow._

_Upon hearing Peter’s voice, he awkwardly craned his head around, gave a brief nod of acknowledgement and returned back to his work. There was no music playing which was unusual, just metallic dings and occasional grunts of exertion. Peter sighed and walked slowly towards the other man._

_“The um, partial lunar eclipse just happened,” the younger man stated, leafing through design plans on Stark’s desk._

_The older man nodded, tightening a joint knob, “Oh yeah. Kind of wanted to see that. How was it?”_

_“Indiscernibly darker than usual for several seconds,” reported Peter._

_“Oh. Titillating astronomy._

_“Yeah, it somehow still managed to feel… apocalyptic?”_

_Stark snickered at that, “Wow.”_

_“Yeah I woke up to watch it. Went up on the launch pad.”_

_“Mhmm,” hummed the older man._

_“Almost missed it, having to wake up from my blissful and very necessary sleep at **three forty in the morning** ,” Peter emphasized the time. _

_There was no response for a minute. Stark halted his motions and glanced up at Peter testily, smirk on his face. He removed his arm from the machinery._

_“Oh,” Stark said, tone short, eyes widening comically, “That late already?”_

_“Why are you still up?” demanded Peter, not having it. The man was going to work himself to exhaustion._

_Stark rose slowly to his feet and turned so he was facing the younger man, brushing his hands off against his thighs. At first glance, Peter was surprised to see the man’s eyes were bright and clear, full of interest but perhaps a tad bit manic as well._

_“You want to know why I’m still up,” reiterated Stark slowly._

_The younger man raised an eyebrow._

_“Honestly, I want to know. Does Pepper give you all a script or something? Your next question was probably something about if I’ve eaten recently, am I wrong?”_

_Goddammit. Yeah, it was but, “No.”_

_Tony scoffed, “Right.”_

_“Look, just, the team worries about how intact your sanity is on nights where you sleep zero hours. And I can’t blame them because how?”_

_Stark thought hard for a moment, biting his lip. Peter avoided letting his gaze slip. “Uhh years of practice? And sleeping isn’t an activity I’m particularly fond of mostly because I can’t. Do it, that is.”_

_Stark’s back was now facing him as the older man shuffled papers on his desk._

_Peter spoke over his shoulder, testy, “Can you not try?”_

_Stark whirled on him suddenly, a jerky movement, his shoulders and neck all tense. Up close, Peter could see tired lines on the man’s face that he could’ve sworn weren’t there before. His senses also picked up on a kind of frenzied, buzzing energy that Stark was working hard to conceal though it exhausted him. His pupils were shot. Peter should’ve took a step back but he took a step forward._

_“I’m sorry. I know you’re not good at the sleeping,” his tone soft._

_Peter knew. He heard Stark’s footsteps out in the halls every night, getting up to do god knows what. Sometimes he used his senses to check up on the other man’s heartbeat. Sometimes he would have to rush into the man’s room to wake him from a nightmare. Sometimes he was there for Tony Stark when no one else was._

_Stark eyed him carefully, relaxing marginally. His next words came slow, “And apparently, you’re not good at the distancing,” replied the man thoughtlessly._

_Peter jumped at the opportunity, “Why the distance?”_

_“Don’t take it personally kid I do it to everyone.”_

_“Your self- critical yet still somehow dickish responses aren’t doing it for me tonight. I don’t get why you push me away, I thought-,”_

_“Suddenly I’m very tired and would like to go to sleep.”_

_“Suddenly I don’t give a damn about your well- being.”_

_Stark’s eyes widened. A smile was in the works as he began nodding his head, acknowledging repartee defeat._

_“Fine okay. Straight up? This-,” he gestures between the two, “Isn’t a good idea Peter.”_

_“Why, Tony? How do you know?”_

_“Cause I do,” he responded simply, “Because we’d be a tight rope act Parker, balancing on a wire until the faintest of touches has it snapping, inevitable from the start. Our dynamic… what we have, it’s- well, you can’t see it; you’re too young but… our beginnings weren’t the best and… we’re just bound to crash and burn, and that’s not something I want to delve into again.”_

_“I don’t get what you’re saying.”_

_“Exactly my point that you don’t see it… won’t ever see it.”_

_Peter took a risk and tentatively reached out and placed his hands on the older man’s shoulders. It was a bit awkward and middle- school- dance like until Stark exhaled loudly, stepping forward to rest his hands-on Peter’s hipbones, fingers flexing. The young hero felt his face blushing an impossible to hide red. He ducked down anyways, hair falling into his eyes. Stark smiled at the modesty of it._

_Just being close to Tony’s body was enough to send Peter’s arousal spiking to unprecedented heights. He had always imagined, but never anticipated the reality of something like this happening. Then, he felt a soft touch to the edge of his jaw, Tony tilted his head up for their eyes to meet. Stark’s eyes were regarding him with a warm affection, slight smile toying at his lips. Peter blushed again and looked away._

_There was a pause, then, “You… have been kissed before, right?”_

_Peter nearly choked in embarrassment, “What- y-yes of course.”_

_“Okay,” chuckled Tony, “You just have this very innocent like vibe floating about you.”_

_“Maybe I do it on purpose.”_

_“If you do, you work it well. Probably too well.”_

_Peter willed himself to establish eye contact again, Stark’s gaze was of course, waiting for him._

_They regarded each other silently for a moment. Peter with his wide, doe like face and Stark with his calculating, venereal demeanor. Emboldened and maybe eager to prove something, Peter began to lean in but stopped when Stark opened his mouth._

_“You have no idea what I’d do for you,” he whispered against the shell of Peter’s ear. The younger man swallowed thickly, Stark’s gaze dropped, watching the bob of his throat, “But that’s not what worries me. What worries me is you. You have no idea. You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”_

_Peter hit ‘fuck it’ in his mind, and was about to fuse their lips together when Stark pulled away dramatically, creating distance. He turned his back to Peter again and rested his palms flat on the table, giving them all his weight. Peter was absolutely thrown, what the hell had just happened? Or why didn’t it happen?_

_The older man ran a tired hand through his hair. “I think I’m going to take your advice and get some sleep. You should go.”_

_“Tony I-,”_

_“Please. Peter,” voiced Stark firmly. Then more gently, “Go.”_

_Peter stepped away slowly and went._

***

Nothing like that ever happened again. Stark never showed any semblance of interest since that incident and Peter had gotten over it, mostly. There was still a stubborn tang of hurt when he thought back to it, which was barely nowadays, but it was still a memory impossible to erase.

However, if Stark was suddenly interested in him again, Peter wanted validation, yeah- of the selfish kind. Their whole feigning one sidedness dynamic had been going on for far too long and Peter was especially tiring. He made a quick decision in his mind, one that would hopefully close a year’s long debacle.

Stark was still waiting patiently for a reply and Peter snapped out of his thoughts, “Oh um, Wade- Wade Wilson, you mean Deadpool? Yeah we don’t… have a thing.”

Stark nodded slowly, “Alright.”

Peter was not going to settle for that; he implored, “Is that good news? Bad news? Or?”

Stark was taken back for a moment, regarding Peter intensely for a moment. A deep contemplation played behind his eyes before a response began to formulate. Then- something clicked. The older man placed his glass on the table as Peter held his breath.

“It’s a… good thing.”

Boom there it is. It felt good honestly, fulfilling. _Shout out to Wade_ thought Peter, positively bubbling on the inside.

“If I asked you to stay-,” began Stark, the following words- no doubt- would’ve been lavish, and tempting to a fault but…

“I would have to decline,” finished Peter standing up.

***

As he left Stark towers and made his way to the car Tony had offered him (upon composing himself with uncharacteristic awkwardness), Peter had felt confident, like really- confident for the first time in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I love Tony Stark but bby can't get his way. THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING EVERYONE!!! Please comment and tell me your thoughts I love them. As long as they're not hyper critical because I'm just a smoll fanfiction writer trying to get by in this world. Also! Suggestions for next chapter anyone???


	5. Sister Margaret's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching up with Weasel.

Sister Margaret’s has smelled like the same three things for eight years, booze, sweat, and blood. Every time Wade burst open her rusted dented doors, he’d take a big whiff and feel at home. Sometimes Weasel attempted a half-ass mop and counter rubdown with Ajax Orange (yes using Ajax makes him laugh and okay just because Francis was an asshole doesn’t mean the soap is an inferior product). Their all- purpose cleaner with bleach got the aged blood off his shower walls like nothing else could.

Anyways, Wade could smell the hints of orange coming from the bar which meant Weasel had been cleaning all night. Too bad Wade’s arrival was going to fuck up the clean, more like “cleaner so people’s blood isn’t outwardly noticeable but would have a zero percent chance of passing a health inspection” space. His hit tonight ended up being particularly messy. Sometimes Wade’s right pointer finger exhibits signs of trigger- happy problem. He’s looking in to it, not.

“Weasel baby I’m home!”

The shaggy haired man was behind the bar, a red stained washcloth in his hand, scrubbing at a two by two cm space on the counter. He didn’t even look up as the mercenary plopped himself in a seat and began humming something out of tune.

“Sorry bar closed two hours ago.”

“Why do you push me away? I work overtime to feed our kids and pay our rent. At least give me a blowjob.”

“That’s a demeaning and inappropriate sexual request. I won’t be guilted into it.”

Wade thought aloud, “then if you won’t blow me…” Weasel exhaled tiredly, “at least pour me a shot pretty, pretty please. Daddy’s so tired-,”

Weasel threw the cloth down, “Jesus Wade you damn moonlighter I’ll pour you your-,” he looked up and stopped talking upon taking in the merc’s appearance. A long throaty groan escaped past his lips.

“Are you kidding me motherfucker. I just spent two hours cleaning, legitimate sober effort was spent. I even scrubbed the floors like Cinderella on my hands and knees and shit cause Chuck broke the mop on Jiggs’s head earlier tonight.”

“Did Jiggs see the light?”

“No.”

Wade slapped his fist against the counter, “Dammit! My money!”

“I know,” shrugged Weasel, peering up at the dead pool, “I’m falling into major debt.”

There was a long momentary pause as both men looked up at the board, contemplating their next bet. Weasel snapped out of it first, “I think I’ll-, oh wait fuck you Wade! You’re cut off from bestie bar service. You got blood all over my in desperate need of restoration floors.”

Wade just smiled gesturing widely with his hands, “All the more reason to get them done.”

“How does Peter feel about you coming home and dripping blood all over the place?”

“He’s never had such an experience since I dry off here before going home.”

A middle finger was flipped his way. Wade chuckled, peeling off his mask.

“Christ you still look like a Benjamin Button naked mole rat.”

“Don’t be pissy,” sing songed Wade, “And pour me that shot.”

“I hate you.”

“How are things with you and Al?”

Weasel shrugged noncommittedly, “I’m still afraid to admit I have a thing for an older lady.”

Wade tossed back the shot on the counter, he grimaced at the cheap burn and waved a knowing finger at his friend, “But-,”

“But I can’t deny the intensity of emotions we shared doing crack that one time you’re right,” Weasel took a shot himself, “I just can’t bring myself to tell her I feel. I get nervous every time I see her.”

“Woo her. She likes IKEA shopping but not much the assembling.”

“Is that first date material?”

“Could be. She was looking for a credenza the last time I talked to her.”

Weasel sighed, a distant look in his eyes, “Classy lady.”

“Anyways where’s your boy toy? He didn’t want to say hi?”

“He’d be in bed by now. He doesn’t stay up past eleven if he can help it. Ugh he’s so cute. He also hates this place so-,”

“Ouch!”

“Says it’s because he should and could incarcerate everyone here.”

“Kid’s not… wrong,” spoke Weasel reluctantly. “You know, the more I think about you two’s relationship the less I understand it. He’s a fucking superhero. You’re not that.”

“Save your flat analysis of our romance for later when you’re in bed, rolling off triazolam.”

“You know it’s prescription.”

“Pharmacies are legal dealers.”

“Oh my god fuck you. You’re so unpleasant tonight.”

 “Anyways I stopped by to drink your alcohol-,”

“Fuck you.”

“Re-dirty your floors-,”

“Fuck you.”

“And take some of your guns.”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s necessary. Is the Colt still back there? I lost mine.”

“Guns aren’t keys Wade.”

Wade waived him off, craning his neck to get a look at the backroom, “Is it? I kind of need it for next week.”

“No it’s not. Chuck took it to Canada.”

“I swear to god I’ll strangle that man.”

Weasel shrugged, “But you and Peter though. Really? You guys just got it made? You never fight about the morality of killing or the corruption of-,”

“Noo-,” interrupted Wade, “Not really. Not anymore, thank god. But! Oh, yeah! We are kind of locked in this high stakes bet right now.”

“What is it,” asked Weasel skeptically. Wade had a habit of hyping up lame elements of his and Peter’s relationship and babbling about them for way too long, like their “intense” debate over who would be the big spoon or little spoon.

“Okay well get this. Petey thinks he’s ugly and has no self- confidence whatsoever.”

“That’s typically the appropriate default for people with some semblance of humility and-,”

“Maybe for someone like you, or me-,” offense quickly overtook the bar owner’s face, “But not for someone like Petey I mean he’s a physically perfect specimen.”

“You know what, he kind of is,” agreed Weasel honestly, thinking about it. “But I mean, he’s gotta know that already. He can’t not know. He’s that kind of caliber attractive where he can walk into a room and people aren’t even jealous because it’s so goddamn natural.”

“Right?! You get it, but he sure as hell doesn’t. So, he’s going to some hotshot Stark publicity thing tonight right, you know very fancy, Black Widow’s wearing a knee length black dress, Captain America is in a navy suit with a red pocket square…”

“I follow, I fuck with the vision,”

“Well to backtrack, after he got flirted on by Daredevil-,”

“What? The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Hitting on little Peter?”

“Yeah. They used to be a thing and shit.”

Weasel gasped, “No.”

“You know that guy came in here once looking for the Punisher. He was all badass looking and causing a scene and whatnot,” Weasel coughed, clearing his throat, “And he talked to me. Only me. I felt genuinely special and very cool.”

“Well the guy’s an asshole and can’t see and not cool. Don’t talk highly about him,” spoke Wade, sullen.

There was an awkward pause. “Okay my b.”

“Anyways, to help awaken his confident, sexy self I told him to act single for tonight… and I basically bet that he’d get flirted on by heroes hardcore.”

“That’s juicy. Daring even.”

“Yeah but he hasn’t really texted me anything all night except that he’s bored so… I’m going to feel like major shit if it fell through and dampened his confidence even more.”

“I mean good intentions and all that. You should leave, let me get high off three kinds of drugs, and then go home to find out what happened yourself.”

“You’re the ultimate babe and you're also right. Bye!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys just a little update, interlude. I needed something fun and easy to get me back in the story. Sorry I've been slow with the updates. I'm having a bit of writers block but I'll get over it! Thanks for reading! Peter's giving Wade the rundown in the next chapter!!


	6. Loki

“This one right here?”

 

The car stopped and jerked the backseat passenger’s head forward a bit. Peter hadn’t even registered the familiar crooked buildings outside his window as his neighborhood, still on cloud nine. The driver placed a hand on the shoulder of the shotgun seat and turned around with a huff. He stared pointedly at Peter and then out the window, the implication of ‘get out now’ clearly conveyed.

 

Peter cleared his throat and reached for the door handle, “Uh right. Thanks. Have a good night,” he scrambled out of the car and right before he closed the door, “Oh! Do I need to um- tip or anyth-,” The car whirled away, the door slamming with the vehicle’s sudden momentum. Peter took a moment to just nod silently to himself, acknowledging the petty universal disregard he seemed to attract from… almost everyone?

 

It took three tries to get the key properly situated in the lock. He swears the land lord gave him the wrong one, or the key maker messed up on one of the ridges or something. It was turning into a reoccurring problem because Wade is often already asleep by the time Peter gets home and he wakes up under the impression that someone’s trying to break in- with all the violent commotion at the door. Thankfully, Peter can pick up on the careful sound of Wade’s Colt’s safety being switched off and that’s typically when he sends a text to the older man saying: “It’s just me at the door <3.”

 

Surprisingly, there were no sounds coming from inside the apartment. It was completely still. He couldn’t even detect the hum of the refrigerator or the reverberation of the air conditioning. Something wasn’t right but he couldn’t discern the danger clearly enough, the more focus he applied the more congested things became.

 

“Weird.”

 

He shook his head wildly to repel the feeling and slowly eased open the door. All the lights were off and he felt for switch beside him, flipping it up. Enough light flooded the room for a moment for Peter to notice Wade lying on the couch, unconscious and bound in glowing ropes- before the air around him began to vibrate. Peter watched in horror as blackness seeped up from the floor, coating every object and surface in the apartment. Against the dark, he saw a pair of smoldering green eyes watching him before he hit the floor.

 

***

 

Peter awoke to darkness, every hair on his body standing straight and alert like soldiers in the face of their commander. The very air around him hung strangely. The darkness didn’t seem natural- not because of night outside or the closed curtains, no- this type seemed alive and heavy. It felt as though it was physically pushing at him from all angles, like experiencing an intense pressure from deep underwater. He couldn’t move.

Then, footsteps. Peter whipped his head around, the noise coming from behind him. He tried desperately to cut through the darkness, to _see something_ , but the entity was rudely opaque.

 

“Who’s there?” he spoke, eyes trailing the invisible’s would-be form in the dark.

 

The footsteps stopped for a beat coming to stand directly over to where Peter was bound. His skin prickled at the being’s proximity, instead of emanating body warmth, the thing radiated the cold. Peter inhaled sharply. Concocted winter air stung at his throat.  He coughed unexpectedly and the being moved away swiftly taking the biting cold with it.  

 

Peter repeated his question firmly, beginning to feel the cold sweat anxiety breaking up his back, “Who’s there? What do you want?”

 

There was no response. The lasting silence combined with complete darkness and an inability to move unnerved his senses to an almost molecular level. That and knowing Wade was somewhere close by- captive and potentially injured- was having Peter’s sensibilities reeling.

 

Peter spoke loudly, “I said who’s the-!”

 

A sudden voice penetrated the space next to him, almost causing Peter to pass out from the surprise of it.

 

“Apologies for the rude awakening, and perhaps even more so for the greeting but I couldn’t help myself. Receiving you in any other way would feel anomalous, inappropriate.”

 

Peter’s eyes widened as he recognized the voice. “Loki.”

 

On que, the demi god’s body manifested under a calm, warm glow. The light was not from the bulbs above, but conjured, some magical possession of the man’s which could be summoned whenever needed.

 

The clean lines of his form were accentuated by the cut, outline of his charcoal armor. His complete figure was un-ethereally regal: straight, polished, and impeccably fastened- an advanced synergism of aged suavity.

 

Taking him all in, the demi god’s first impression was much like Thor’s, a bearer of age-old supremacy. Except Thor’s impression was much more brazen, carnal, and free spirited. Loki’s presence was daunting in a different manner- serene, refined, exuding un-paralleled eloquence in every facet of existence- each spoken word was well articulated and every sweeping movement deliberate.

 

Though Peter could acknowledge the demi god’s apparent qualities, beneath his surface- behind those piercing green eyes- existed, innately, a licentious nature that colored every act, every request, every one of his offers with deception. Even acting under the guise of apparent altruism, there always existed an ulterior motive. Finding out what that was typically did not occur until after you were misled by it.

 

“It’s good to make your acquaintance again, been too long,” and before Peter could respond, “You stare _quite_ a lot.”

 

“W-what?” Peter too easily became frazzled under the side eye of the trickster. Loki was across the room looking at him calmly, the room was still doused in darkness aside from the glow that adhered to the demi god personally. He began walking towards Peter.

 

“I don’t mind it of course.”

 

“Why are you here,” demanded Peter, straining against the pressure binding him. “And what have you done with Wade? Where is he?”

 

Irritation briefly flashed across Loki’s features at the mention of Wade’s name, before his neutral expression returned.  

 

Loki chose to pointedly ignore Peter’s questions for a long enough time that their relevancy soon became minute.  

 

“Peter,” began the demi god, “I’ve never believed us to be enemies. Wouldn’t you agree?”

 

The young hero watched with wary eyes as Loki began to walk in circles around him. His footsteps reverberated against the floor as if he were walking along an empty ocean cavern, not wooden floor planks. Peter could safely assume that any interaction with the demi god would involve the use of magic. Currently, the magic was profoundly emphasizing the trickster’s presence, especially his voice. Peter couldn’t shake him.

 

“I’ve never considered us friends.”

 

Loki laughed, sounding like it was coming from all around him.

 

“No of course not. I won’t sugar coat it. I despise mostly all the Avengers. Some more than most, but you know that already,” he suddenly came to kneel directly in front of Peter, again the hero felt a cold stream of air brush by him. Loki’s eyes were staring into his intently, unblinking. Peter could sense the enormous residence of magic simmering beneath the demi god’s robes and it felt threatening, though dormant. “I’ve always detected something different about you Peter,” an ivory finger gently lifted Peter’s chin, forcibly bringing their eyes together.  

 

But the _way_ his name rolled off the demi god’s tongue was almost… sultry? Peter has wondered if Loki, the god of Deception, knew all along his voice would be a critical tool in the art of persuasion. If he’s refined it throughout the ages like one would a good wine- till it sat perfect in his mouth- and exuded this hypnotic alluring timbre of voice. Improved it till each word was articulated high and clear, dripping in intent of all kinds. It possessed unbelievable range and could capture every emotion. Generally, his tone was deep, smooth, and firm but then it was so sharp, mean, cutting swifter than a sword.

 

Loki tilted his head at him, “You’re awfully quiet. Aren’t you normally the one with the smart mouth?”

 

Peter stared hard back into Loki’s gaze. “I have nothing to say to you, until you tell me what you’ve done with Wade.”

 

“Ah, your… paramour,” the affectionate term coated in sarcasm. “He’s fine. He’s right over there. See.”

 

With a wave of his hand, Loki brightened one corner of the room, where Wade lay uncomfortably bound and gagged on his back, still unconscious.

 

“You better not have hurt him,” growled Peter.

 

“I’ve done no such thing, but that doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t.”

 

Peter fought violently against the pressure holding him down, thrashing his body side to side. Loki waited patiently for him to realize it was pointless.

 

Peter sneered, “What. Do. You. Want.”

 

“Simply put. You.”

 

Peter felt himself deflate a little, Loki’s answer surprising him.

 

“M-me? Why?”

 

“You never let me finish earlier,” an unimpressed eyebrow, “I want you for a moment to forget my past encounters with your various teammates. Overlook them. We’ve personally never engaged before,” Peter watched the words flow from Loki’s lips yet their sound was all around him, encasing his brain in these galvanizing vibrations that Peter believed would turn him numb soon. “Your mistrust of me stems from a bad seed planted by biased growers watered by heavily exaggerated claims and stories. I am no conqueror of the innocent. I merely appeal to people’s true natures.”

 

“Their true natures…” trailed Peter, unconvinced.

 

“Yes. And I believe I can appeal to yours.”

 

The sound of Loki’s voice was making it hard for Peter to think clearly. He writhed again in his constraints. “You… don’t know me.”

 

“But I do,” with the flick of a finger, the invisible ties around his torso suddenly loosened considerably making it much easier to breathe, though Peter still couldn’t move his arms or legs. Loki’s eyes swept up and down his heaving chest, watching the rapid rise and fall of it with eager attention. Peter willed his breathing to slow as he attempted to maximize his moment of clarity. Loki turned his gaze back up to him.

 

“You are an outsider Peter Parker. You always have been.”

 

Peter felt his body tense at the words spoken, seemingly right into his ears. A shiver overtook his body as the demi-god became shapeless again, only his voice remaining in the darkened room, his words acting as almost an extension of Peter’s consciousness.

 

“You’ve never truly fit in with the others. You’ve never been a true Avenger. You’ve worked so hard to be accepted for what? A sporadic call to action? To do the jobs they can’t be bothered to do themselves? You’re meant for much more than what they _use_ you for.”

 

And there it was. One of Peter’s greatest fears. That they were just using him. That they didn’t care about him or even appreciate him. On some deep down visceral level, Peter knew that wasn’t entirely true. The team one hundred percent cared about him to some degree but sometimes Peter doubted. He couldn’t help it. This fear of inadequacy had been with him since the first day Tony Stark approached him, of not being good enough to be cared about.

 

Having it be so clearly preyed upon and extrapolated by the silver tongue himself was affecting Peter’s thoughts negatively to say the least. The more words spilled from Loki’s velvet mouth the more anxious and vulnerable Peter became. At some point, the words melted together into trance like jargon.

 

He was losing his grip on reality, falling victim to the persuasive magic Loki was inflicting on him. He had to break the trance somehow, convince Loki he was being convinced- so the magic being exerted to persuade him- would become unnecessary.

 

But how? He couldn’t fight or escape. He was completely immobilized. The only things he could move were his mouth and eyes. His eyes flickered over to where Wade was still lying unconscious on the ground.

 

_‘Think of what Wade would tell you…’_

It was difficult to think clearly with the weight of Loki’s magic pressing down on him which was probably why the only thing that came to mind was…

 

***

_“_ _I didn’t notice this until we actually got together, but you’re kind of like the girl next door in the_

_“What? That’s so, so not true!”_

_“Really? You really wanna argue with me on that?”_

_“Yes. I do because there’s no way that’s true, like at all!”_

_“How would you know? You don’t even realize when people are flirting with you!”_

_***_

He’ll admit it, if there was one thing that Peter has gained from this experiment is a keener sense of awareness. Who knew that actively looking for signs of attraction one would actually find them, concerning Peter of all people! But he can’t deny it now, after he’s been forced to grapple with the existence of his realized “attractiveness,” albeit how little or great it might be.

But he didn’t notice before how people’s eyes would linger or sweep up his frame approvingly. He didn’t notice how close people would stand, how often a hand would wrap around his waist, how frequently an arm would be slung over his shoulders. How fond people would look when they watched him laugh.  

Peter had always assumed that he just- invited that kind of easy amiability with everyone. Being such an unassuming person, he was always easy to talk to about nothing and ready to laugh over jokes that weren’t funny. So, Peter went on believing that all these people were interested in him because he was just generally pleasant to be with… but now he realizes that might not have always been the case- that he really shouldn’t have been _that_ in denial when Wade told him he was largely desirable.

So back to the situation at hand, he had a rough draft of an idea that could- with God’s grace- work if Loki was legitimately interested in him. Like Peter said earlier, the demi- god always had an ulterior motive with everything he did. The only thing discouraging Peter from initiating his plan was uncertainty regarding the trickster’s true interests. He’d have to prod more.

But some instinct in Peter was telling him that boldly flirting with the demi-god wouldn’t be as appealing or as effective on him as subtle indications would. Loki’s very aura- if you attempted to legitimately contend with it- demanded to be matched in tasteful execution.

“You understand now right Peter? You see how they do more bad than they do good. One conflict after another follows them as long as they persist,” Loki’s tone turned soothing, gentle, a faux play on trustworthiness, “Your allegiance should not lie with them...”

 

Peter took a deep breath in and out to compose himself, closing his eyes briefly. Loki’s form reappeared across the room under the tenuous light. He was leaning against the wall, smoothing down the metallic plates of his armor with wide open palms, watching Peter with slight interest.

 

When Peter reopened his eyes, he didn’t let them open completely- instead brandishing his best half-lidded, sensual gaze- one that’s drove Wade wild countless of times. He couldn’t quite understand why exactly this _look_ got him whatever he wanted in the past; it just worked. It combined a delicate sleepiness with shameless longing. While he didn’t consider himself the raw sex appeal type, he was cognizant of the air of tarnishable innocence he seemed to exude, which- in his past relationships- was reputably irresistible.

 

In a careful voice, “… Tell me where it should lie.”  

 

Loki pushed himself off the wall and took slow measured steps towards the younger man. Soon he was towering above Peter looking down at him with a slight upturn of his lips, a spark in his eyes, as if he already knew what Peter was trying to do. Not put out, Peter tilted his head back, boldly meeting the demi god’s penetrating gaze while exposing the sweet line of his neck. He then swallowed slowly, knowing the villain’s attention would instinctually drop to watch his Adams apple roll up a few centimeters then down, straining tight against silken skin.

 

It had an immediate effect. Peter saw how Loki’s lips parted slightly, heard his breath catch. Then with unexpected swiftness, his face was caught between a thumb and four fingers, his jaw crooked awkwardly under the firm grip. He made a sound of indignation, narrowing his eyes angrily.

 

Loki smiled and readjusted his grip, turning Peter’s head side to side like he was being examined. Peter breathed hotly through his nose making small sounds of irritation.

 

“Where should your allegiance lie you ask?” Loki snapped Peter’s face forward, apparently reveling in how furious the younger man appeared, “With me.”

 

Even though Peter was mad, he counted this as a small success.  And although he wanted nothing more than to break free and knock Loki through the window, he knew what the silver tongue was doing. By demeaning him, the demi god was testing to see if Peter really was serious in intent and not just setting a petty guise to distract him. While he was in fact employing a petty guise to distract him, that didn’t mean he couldn’t sell it. His advantage was knowing Loki was _interested_ in him now.

 

Instead of feeding the anger, he swallowed it down and stared calmly back. Loki scrutinized him closely watching every expression as it passed over his face. Peter let his gaze very intentionally drop to the other man’s lips. He wondered if they’d feel as cold as the fingers against his skin.

 

Smiling, Loki relinquished his hold on Peter’s face. A moment later, he felt some of the magic constricting him loosen. Sighing, the younger man rolled his shoulders out, feeling the joints sink back into place. The demi-god was apparently feeling more confident now that Peter wouldn’t be opposed to whatever he had to say.

 

“A war is coming Peter. I’m sure you feel it, and it will rank high above your comrade’s white knuckled brawls for the earth realm. This battle will sweep over your world, and all worlds alike, wherever life persists, death will be its constant shadow. I’d like you to join the right side… mine. Let me assure you your mind, capability, and radiance are far too precious to be doused fighting under an inadequate cause. Help me create a better universe with you still in it.”

“Under an inadequate cause.”

 

“Yes,” confirmed Loki, “The Avengers act on no rate of true success. Every time they have ‘saved the world’ another enemy, greater than the last, has arose. That contingency will no longer persist to be a problem this time around.”

 

“Why… would you want me though? What could I possibly offer?” By downplaying himself, Peter left a lot of room for the demi-god to be lavishly upfront with him while also demonstrating his humility, *always brownie points*.

 

 The look Loki gave him was one of endearing, pitifulness- almost saying ‘how could you possibly not know what you are?’

 

“There is nothing else in the universe like you Peter. There are other geniuses like Stark, capable men like Barton, leaders like Captain America but you are… unique. A rare singularity.”

 

“And you are… attracted to those things?”

 

“Very attracted,” Loki’s response seemed to have passed before Peter even finished his question. The younger man couldn’t help but blush, ducking his head. The smooth, easy regality of the other man’s voice was something that Peter couldn’t help but fall for.  

 

Then Loki’s eyes locked onto his and Peter found himself unable to look away. There was something that caught his eye. The colors behind the demi god’s irises were changing rapidly from a spectrum of intense blues and greens, with the occasional red. The churning of colors was akin to the swirling of a painter’s brush against his wooden palette. Peter’s mind began to numb, his mouth hanging open slightly, being absorbed into the colors. They seemed to be getting brighter and brighter, filling his vision till the surrounding darkness was washed out.

 

A faint tug at the back of his head was warning him to look away, telling him he was being entranced somehow but he simply couldn’t shake it. Peter didn’t know how long he had been hypnotized until he felt a cool hand slipping easily round the length of his neck and the other- gripping gently- the curve of his shoulder. He let his eyes slip shut, basking in the warmth of hold he was in.

 

A silken voice whispered in his ear, cold lips just brushing the outer lobe, “Fight for me Peter and you will have the world, free from everything that limits or doubts you. I swear it.”

 

Wavering slightly, he opened his eyes and suddenly found that he was standing, yet had no memory of getting up. All the black, aching pressure of before seemed to be lifted and Peter knew he was free. Yet he still couldn’t bring himself to move.

 

“Wha-?”

 

The hand against his cheek urged Peter to look up, tracing the line of his jaw all the way to his lips, until his chin was held between a thumb and pointer finger. The touch against his shoulder was still there but it had become unceremoniously rough and jarring, shaking his entire body till Peter- and his mind- seemed to snap awake. He could hear a voice in the distance but it was muffled and muted.

 

“Peter… Peter?... Peter! Hey, snap out of it! Baby boy did you drink too much?... Peteerr… Peter! Wake up!”

 

Popping open his eyes, bright light flooded into them like water into a tub.

 

“Ah!” stumbling backwards, Peter clenched his eyes together and rubbed at them furiously with his knuckles. “Ouch, ouch, oh my god, ouch.”

 

He heard laughter from across the room.

 

“Wow baby boy are you okay? I came out into the kitchen and you were just standing in the middle of the living room like a damn zombie. I had to shake you to wake you up.”

 

Peter whipped his head around, taking in Wade’s very conscious and upright figure, definitely not gagged and bound on the couch. He glanced wildly at the couch and could see no indent or evidence that his boyfriend had been in a hostage position. Probably looking like a mad man, Peter began flapping his arms up and down through the air, noting the lack of resistance.

 

He mumbled to himself, “… what?”

 

Wade chuckled uncomfortably, watching Peter with sudden concern, “Umm… are you okay?”

 

Taking a deep breath, Peter quickly reviewed his inter-dimensional meeting with Loki, accepted the fact that it could have- or not have- happened, squashed down all the discombobulation he felt upon being mind-gamed, and marched across the room to envelop Wade in the tightest most wholesome hug he could.

 

“Woah,” Wade was surprised at first but quickly relaxed, folding his arms around the younger man’s neck and pulling close. Peter breathed in the familiar scent of the older man, reveled in the wholesome warmth of Wade’s body, and sighed deeply. This was home. The mercenary loosened his hold to press a lasting kiss to the top of Peter’s head before asking, “long night baby boy?”

 

Peter chuckled and pulled back to look Wade in the eye, “You have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've returned! I'm sorry, I know I promised the rundown this chapter but I PROMISE it comes next. I wanted to switch it up with the characters- someone commented about having a villain flirt with Peter and i liked it and really the only attractive villain we've gotten so far is, let's be real, Loki so here ya go. 
> 
> Also I have a personal weakness for Tom Hiddleston (if you couldn't tell by the extra way I described his voice) anyone else? 
> 
> Haha thanks so much for reading!! Comment and tell me what you think :) much love xx


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